


Call Me Back When the War is Over

by polynya



Series: The Heart is a Muscle [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Drinking, Exams, F/M, Fights, Friendship, Idiots in Love, Kuchiki Bullshit, Orchids, Overprotective Brothers, Paperwork, Pickles - Freeform, Poetry, Settling scores, Shinigami/Zanpakutou Bond, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Training, badassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 136,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polynya/pseuds/polynya
Summary: For forty years, Kuchiki Rukia has dreamed of a seated position in Squad 13. It turns out that all she had to do was help one teen Substitute Shinigami storm Hueco Mundo and defeat Aizen, because now the Head Captain wants her to take the Lieutenant’s Exam. She’s having trouble finding time to study, though, between an emotionally constipated brother who’s finally ready to have a relationship, her own insecurities, an old grudge match coming home to roost, and a very helpful best friend that she just might be in love with.
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Kuchiki Byakuya, Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia, Kuchiki Byakuya & Kuchiki Rukia, Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana, Rikichi/Yamada Hanatarou
Series: The Heart is a Muscle [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1323788
Comments: 158
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Between Tides](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375927/chapters/46102609). While, strictly speaking, this story is canon compliant, you probably need to read that one first. But if you don't want to, I support you! I honestly would be really excited for someone to go into this cold-- the first few paragraphs contain most of the exposition you need (and a huge spoiler for Between Tides)-- so good luck, fearless reader! Let me know how it goes. For the rest of you, you may wish to go back and reread the [Between Tides 2nd Epilogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375927/chapters/49536809), which sort of doubles as a prologue for this piece. 
> 
> This story is completed, I will be posting one part per week. There are 13 chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> Many, many thanks, as always, to my faithful beta reader, Luna12, who puts up with so, so much from me.
> 
> Rated T for horrible language, fighting of all varieties, and other assorted dirtbaggery.
> 
> The opening theme for this story (and the origin of the title) is Madeline and Nine, by Mike Doughty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia has an eventful first day back. Renji circulates a memo. Byakuya is, briefly, happy.

* * *

* * *

An alarm was going off. 

It was not the usual alarm, and it was not the usual time, and Kuchiki Rukia was slightly hungover, and she was _not_ here for any of this.

One arm shot out from under the covers and groped around for a moment until it located her angrily buzzing phone. 

Sighing, she turned off the alarm and rolled over.

Something was missing. 

Rukia patted the bed next to her, expecting to find a large, sleepy lump, or at the very least, the warm spot where a large, sleepy lump had recently rolled out of bed to go start rice. 

Instead, to her surprise, her hand made contact with a _small_ , sleepy lump, soft and silky. Rukia grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and hauled it up to face level, cracking one grumpy eye open.

It was a rabbit, white and fluffy, with pale blue eyes, like ice. The rabbit looked about as confused as Rukia. "What the hell are you doing here?" Rukia grumbled. The bunny snuffled her nose charmingly and promptly disappeared.

Rukia sat up, resting one arm across her knees, and scratching at her tangled hair. That was strange. Sode no Shirayuki could hardly be bothered to take corporeal form in her inner world half the time, let alone manifesting in the real world. 

But everything was strange right now. Rukia had just returned from what was, she had been told, a field mission for Squad 2. She couldn’t be certain, because at the end of it, they had seen fit to wipe her memory of the entire business. For all she knew, she’d been in the Maggot’s Nest the whole time.

It was a funny thing, memory loss, especially over such a long period of time. It seemed like literally two days ago that Ichigo had lost his powers, she and Renji had gotten reamed out by the Captain-General for desertion, and she had taken some sort of Squad 2 aptitude test. She could remember these things happening very clearly, but the emotions that had accompanied them were long past. When she thought of Ichigo, she kept expecting raw grief, but instead found only fond nostalgia and acceptance. She had the vaguest recollection that he had sent her a New Year’s card. 

There were other strange aspects, as well. Her body felt wrong. She kept tripping and misjudging distances. The manor felt entirely too big. She had taken three wrong turns trying to find her room the night before (the fact that she had been coming home from a very boozy welcome-back party had not exactly helped). And most confounding at all was the itchy, nagging absence of her mission partner, the sensation that Renji was just past her peripheral vision, and she would see him if she could just turn around fast enough. 

Ah, well, she’d only been home for two days. Surely things would sort themselves out in short order. At the very least, she had plans to meet up with Renji for lunch.

"I am home," she said out loud to herself, trying to remember what she had been looking for just a moment ago. Had it been a real thing or just another phantom memory? "This is normal. I'm going to put on my shihakushou and eat breakfast and go over to the Thirteenth Division." She felt a grin growing on her face when she remembered something that was both real and _not_ normal. “Where I am going to start training for my lieutenant’s exam.”

* * *

Renji rolled out of bed, yawning. 

He stumbled out through his living room and into the kitchen.

Scratching his stomach, he tried to remember where he kept his rice cooker. Or for that matter, the rice. Nothing seemed familiar.

Then he remembered that he didn’t actually _use_ his kitchen, aside from occasionally storing beer in his fridge.

“Why am I even in here?” he wondered.

* * *

“This is my new schedule?” Rukia asked, squinting at the paper Sentarou had handed her. “Where are all my chores?”

“Reassigned,” he shrugged. “The other unseated officers have been covering them for the last few months anyway.” He regarded her seriously. “It’s not like we missed you for your ability to scrub floors, you know.”

“You big jerk,” Kiyone chided. “We missed her because she’s our _friend_ , of course.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, “We did have to go out to Rukongai to fight some mid-level Hollows, and you would have been a big help, not gonna lie.”

“Anyway, you better get ready,” Sentarou warned her. “Did you see the first thing on your schedule?”

Rukia squinted. “You’re kidding.”

“He’s really excited about it.”

As if on cue, Captain Ukitake burst into the room, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, his zanpakutou strapped to his side. “Good morning, all my favorite officers!”

“Good morning, sir!” Sentarou and Kiyone chorused.

“Good morning, sir!” Rukia added, a beat behind.

“Are you ready to spar?” Ukitake asked cheerfully. 

“Ah-ha,” Rukia replied. “Ah-ha-ha-ha.”

* * *

Byakuya felt it as soon as he set foot on the grounds of the Sixth Division.

He could also hear it.

For the last three months, he had entered his division in the early mornings, shortly before the start of work hours, to be greeted by silence and serenity. He had grown used to enjoying this peaceful time as the world slowly woke up around him, building gradually into the daytime bustle of activity.

Abarai had been back for a _day_. A single day. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and half the squad was up and gathered at the training grounds, _shouting_. It appeared Byakuya wasn’t the only one who had missed him.

Among active duty shinigami, aside from Byakuya himself, Third Seat Ohno Isao was the most skilled practitioner of the Kuchiki family sword form. He had mastered the skills, the strategy, the philosophy of it. He was the oldest son and heir to the largest of the Kuchiki branch families. He was probably the most viable candidate for the next captain of Squad 6, a fact that disgusted Byakuya to his core. The man was soulless, dull, more interested in the glory and benefits of rank than the responsibilities and obligations. If Ohno _ever_ achieved bankai, Byakuya would eat his scarf.

Kuchiki Choei, Fourth Seat, was Ohno’s spiritual opposite. While he came from the core family, if not the main line, he had four older brothers ahead of him. Kuchiki was a fierce and creative fighter, and _for some reason_ he had seen incredible improvement over the last nine months. He had the massive spiritual energy one would expect from a Kuchiki. He was competent enough at the family sword form, but as his shikai took the improbable shape of a warhammer, he mostly didn't bother with it. However, when it came to family obligations, this Kuchiki was the despair of the elders. He would rather sneak off to drink with his friends, he showed up to formal events inappropriately dressed, and conversation with him always drifted toward such plebeian concerns as sporting competitions or new trends being picked up from the World of the Living.

And right now, both of them were being absolutely taken apart by the uncouth pile of tattoos Byakuya called an adjutant, while the squad hooted and jeered at all three of them. 

Byakuya was probably the only one who was able to follow Abarai’s hands as he flawlessly disarmed Ohno with a classical move developed by a long-ago Shihouin family head as a direct counter for the Kuchiki form, back when the families still squabbled violently. Byakuya knew how to avoid the maneuver, of course, but the only person who had ever used it on him in practice was his own grandfather. Without looking, Abarai spun into a roundhouse kick, catching Kuchiki, behind him, in the stomach. That massive whip-sword of his followed, catching Ohno across the chest on its way around. Kuchiki hit the dirt rather ungracefully, but managed to avoid its wicked serrations. 

Well. This all seemed very interesting.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura.”

The spectators scattered as well, as Byakuya stepped through them onto the training field, wreathed by the glittering blades of his shikai. Ohno scrambled for his sword. Kuchiki looked up from his prone position, eyes wide. Abarai grinned wolfishly, and _attacked_. 

It had been some time since Byakuya had been able to square off against his lieutenant, and the younger man had not been resting on his laurels. Renji was faster now, both in shunpo, and his reflexes generally, as he avoided Senbonzakura’s shimmering waves. His swordwork, while still very strong, seemed a bit off-rhythm from his usual high standard. He was more fluid in his movements, though, more graceful. Byakuya wondered if he had been practicing his hakuda. Abarai’s reiatsu was also stronger, much stronger than it had been, as Byakuya would expect of someone in that first year of exponential improvement after achieving bankai. But here was something interesting-- Renji’s reiatsu had always been disorderly, nearly chaotic, which Byakuya had assumed was related to the nature of his zanpakutou. It was less so now, he was making much more efficient use of it. For some strange reason, Byakuya suspected his sister’s hand in this.

“Have you forgotten the bite of my blade, Lieutenant?” Byakuya asked laconically, blocking Abarai’s sword with the back of his reiatsu-armored forearm. 

“Not for a second,” Abarai replied, aiming a kick at his captain’s stomach.

Byakuya had honestly forgotten how much _fun_ it was to fight Abarai. The man had never held back, even once in his entire life. Never saw a stupid chance he didn’t try to take. At first, Byakuya had found this utterly inane, until, after a few rematches, he realized that Abarai filed away every single success and failure in that thick skull of his, and was perpetually refining his strategies. It was never a single skirmish with Abarai, it was some obscure long game with a win condition only Renji knew.

It wasn’t long before Byakuya had him on the ground, bleeding from a big cut just above one absurd eyebrow, and another on his left arm, but Abarai was still smiling. Byakuya himself had a small cut on his neck, and what he suspected would bloom into a deeply painful bruise on his ribs. Abarai was strong enough now that when one of those stupid risks paid off, _it hurt_. Byakuya was going to have to start being more cautious. 

“Go get cleaned up,” the captain sniffed. “Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“Yes, sir!” Abarai replied cheerfully. “Thanks for the scrap, sir!”

The scrap? The _scrap_? 

Byakuya looked over at his troops, hanging on the fence around the training field, enraptured.

“Good fight, sirs!” someone yelled.

“Well done, Captain!”

“Way to give him the business, sir!”

The _business_?

A small figure vaulted the fence and gave him a perfunctory bow before scampering up to Renji. “Hey! Hey, Renji!”

“‘Sup, buddy?”

“I’ve been learning kaidou! Can I try to fix your head?”

“Aw, cool! That’s great, Rikichi. Yeah, give it a go!”

Byakuya shook his head, and realized that Ohno and Kuchiki were bowing to him.

“Excellent fight, sir,” Ohno complimented. “You made short work of him.”

Young Kuchiki appeared to find something about this very humorous.

“I hope you were paying attention,” Byakuya remarked. “Since you seemed to be having some trouble with him, yourselves.”

“Perhaps, sir,” Ohno wheedled, “As we fight in the same style, you might be able to offer some suggestions.”

“Improve,” Byakuya suggested, and headed off to the office.

* * *

“ _Tsugi no Mai, Hakuren!”_ Rukia called out, launching an avalanche of snow at her captain, and immediately hurling herself to one side. “ _Juhaku!_ ” she immediately followed up, as a blast of cold air came flying back at her. Her strange clumsiness seemed to have dissipated somewhat once she had enough adrenaline going, but she still didn’t feel herself this morning.

“Ha! Nice try!” Ukitake laughed, nimbly leaping away from the ground freezing beneath his feet.

Rukia was running out of options. She was throwing everything she had at him, and he was cheerfully dodging half her attacks and throwing the other ones back at her.

Arggh, fuck it!

She flash-stepped directly at him, swinging her sword up toward his midsection.

He blocked it easily.

She kicked him in the shin.

“Ow--ha ha ha--ow ow!” He gently bopped her on the head with the flat of his other sword. “You’re dead, by the way.”

“You could have taken me out at any time,” Rukia admitted. “I was running out of steam, so I figured I would try to get at least one good hit in.”

“Interesting strategy," Ukitake replied. "Phew! Let’s go sit for a minute.” They found a sunny spot on the grassy hill overlooking the practice field. “Of course I could have taken you out at any time. I wouldn’t be a very good captain if I couldn’t, right?”

“O-of course not, sir! I didn’t mean--”

“Ahh, that was fun!” Ukitake cut off her apologies. “Did you have fun?”

Rukia blinked, and then smiled. “I did. Actually."

Ukitake flashed her one of his kind, fatherly smiles. "Your powers have come an incredible way in the last year, Rukia. That happens to people sometimes. It can be a little overwhelming."

Rukia frowned. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going.

"Your brother mentioned that he was concerned you were being rushed along. My sense is that you're ready, that you're perfectly capable of handling this, but I thought maybe I should check in."

"My brother said that?" Rukia echoed.

"Oh, he just mentioned it," Ukitake hemmed and hawed. "You know what a worrywart he is."

Rukia raised one eyebrow with extreme skepticism. " _My_ brother?" she repeated.

"So, how do you feel?" Ukitake plowed resolutely onward.

"Well," Rukia said slowly. "I've been helping Kiyone with her paperwork for a long time, so I have the general gist of that. I'm not always sure what's due when, I probably should have been paying more attention, but she can probably help remind me at least at the beginning." Rukia scratched her head. "I know all the drills we do. I have a few ideas for some new ones, actually. It seems like there's a lot more inter-vice-captain stuff than there used to be, but that's new for everyone, so…"

"Kuchiki," her captain cut her off. "I meant, specifically, did you have any concerns about backing me up? Fighting high level enemies? The dangerous part."

Rukia's brow furrowed. "Oh. No. Gosh, no. I mean, I've been through some pretty rough stuff, even without a rank. A lot of it sucked." She glanced at her captain out of the corner of her eye. "Some of it was really awesome, though. Do you want to hear about the time I took out an ancient Hueco Mundo guardian spirit? I mean, you can't kill those guys permanently, but I had him down for the count."

Ukitake grinned. "Tell me all about it."

* * *

Renji’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the time as he flipped it open. Oh, shit, how was it noon already? He checked the text, hoping that maybe Rukia was running late. Nope, she was waiting for him outside. He frowned at the form he was working on. He really wanted to finish it up before he left.

“Is Rukia here?” 

Renji peered over the piles of paper on his desk to see his captain, head cocked to the side curiously, probably having picked up on her spiritual pressure. Renji wasn’t positive, but it seemed like Rukia was substantially “noisier” than she used to be. “Uh, yeah. She’s, um, waiting for me outside. So we can go to lunch.”

“Why wouldn’t she come in?” Byakuya asked, clearly offended.

“Oh,” Renji hedged. “I think she was just tryin’ to be respectful of my time.” 

“Tell her to come in,” Byakuya replied icily.

Welp. There went lunch.

“Need a minute. You should come in,” he tapped out, and started rushing through to the end of his form, on the off chance that this actually ended well.

“Kuchiki Rukia of the 13th to see Lieutenant Abarai,” Rukia’s voice came through the shoji. 

“Come,” Captain Kuchiki called.

Rukia came in, and looked surprised to find Byakuya in residence. 

“Ah, good morning, Brother, it’s nice to see you,” she offered with a friendly smile.

“I’m just finishing up,” Renji said, scratching his name at the bottom of the form, and wishing, not for the first time, that it didn’t have quite so many elaborate characters.

“It is lovely to see you, Sister,” Byakuya announced fondly, and Renji looked up, surprised. Sure enough, his captain’s face was soft and seemed full of genuine affection. “How was your return to duty?”

“Exciting, actually,” Rukia said, a bit nervously. “Captain Ukitake wanted to spar.”

“Ha!” Renji barked. “My captain wanted to spar this morning, too.”

Byakuya glared at him crossly and Renji tried to duck behind his heaps of paperwork.

But then Rukia looked over as well, and as their eyes met, the tension melted out of her expression. “Is that what happened to your face?” she teased.

“I let Rikichi practice his healing on me,” Renji admitted, wiping the ink off of his brush. “I’m sure it will be fine in a day or two.”

“You should be more gentle on Renji, Brother,” Rukia turned back to her sibling. “His face looks terrible enough as-is.”

Byakuya’s eyes were darting between them and Renji wondered if he would be getting a lecture on propriety later that afternoon, or if he was going to get it right then and there.

“Lieutenant Abarai is very busy today,” Byakuya pointed out. 

“He’s got to eat,” Rukia rejoined. “We’re just going down to the mess, it won’t take any longer than if he just went himself.”

Byakuya looked horrified. “The _mess_? Rukia, you can’t possibly lower yourself to eating at the Sixth Division mess. It’s dreadful.”

“Well, we usually eat over at the 13th, but like you said, Renji is very busy today.” Rukia crossed her arms. “You know, Brother, the mess is very convenient and a lot of officers depend on it. If yours is dreadful, maybe you should try to improve it.”

Renji jumped to his feet. “All done, let’s go.”

"Ah, Lieutenant, I almost forgot."

Shit. Fuck. Nothing good had ever followed the words "Ah, Lieutenant, I almost forgot."

"The charge codes update at the start of the new year."

"Yeah, it's just the last two digits, I got it."

"Yes, but _these_ forms are from last year." Byakuya held out a stack of papers that comprised nearly everything Renji had finished the day before. "You put this year's code on them in error. I am sure it was accidental. They will need to be re-done. I have annotated any additional issues that I identified."

"Thanks...for catching that. Sir." Renji's eye twitched as he accepted the pile.

"Can't you just cross it out and write the correct code in above?" Rukia suggested.

"Of course not!" Byakuya proclaimed as Renji shook his head frantically. Rukia shrugged. She knew by now it was rarely useful to argue with either one of them. On the rare occasion they agreed on something, it was certainly a lost cause.

Renji dumped the pile of papers on his chair, then grabbed Rukia by the elbow and hauled her towards the door before his captain could think up any more ways to ruin his day. “I’ll be back super-quick. Can I bring you back anything? Sir?”

Byakuya just _glared_ at him.

* * *

Renji breathed out visibly as they stepped out into the chilly February sunshine. It was the first step he'd taken out of the office since sitting down at his desk that morning. He looked down at his favorite person in the world, and to his mild surprise, his heart did not give its usual lovelorn hitch. Instead, it flooded with affection for her, warm and pleasant. Instead of tensing, as he often did, he felt his whole body relax, just to be in her presence. “Hey,” he managed softly.

Rukia looked up at him. Rukia, whose face was usually so guarded, hidden behind a mask of sarcasm or teasing or noble indifference, looked at him with soft eyes and a smile on her lips. “Hey, yourself.”

Obviously, it was too good to last.

“Hey! Hey, Lieutenant Abarai!”

Renji blinked and looked up at the young officer dashing up to them. “Ah, hello, Shirogane, what’s up?”

Ninth Seat Shirogane Mihane bowed politely to him, and to Rukia as well. “Hello, Lady Rukia. Welcome back, Lieutenant! I was just wondering if you were going to start doing Saturday one-on-ones again, and if I could get on the schedule?”

“Oh,” Renji said, dazed. “Uh, I hadn’t really gotten that far…”

“I figured out my zanpakutou’s second attack,” the young woman announced, wrinkling her nose excitedly, before her face turned hesitant. “But I can’t figure out how to aim it.”

“That’s great, Shirogane!” Renji exclaimed, genuinely excited. Shirogane was one of his hardest workers and he was pleased she had been able to make some progress in his absence. “Look, I think I may be working overtime the next coupla Saturdays myself, but I’ll make some time for you, okay?”

“Thanks so much, Lieutenant!” Shirogane bobbed her head. “By the way, Dad will be glad to hear you’re back, he’s been asking after you.”

“I’ll be sure to drop by the shop soon,” Renji promised. 

She bowed again, and scampered off.

“Her dad, uh, runs the sunglasses store,” Renji explained as they started toward the mess hall.

“And was the vice-captain here before you?” Rukia reminded him, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Oh, I guess you probably know ‘em,” Renji realized lamely.

“They’re fairly distant cousins, but we see them a lot because Brother is very fond of Lieutenant Shirogane.”

Renji sighed. “You got any idea how the old guy managed that?” 

Rukia chuckled, and hit him playfully with the back of her hand.

“Ah, Lady Rukia!”

Rukia managed to catch herself from making a horrified face just in time, before she was accosted by Fifth Seat Kuchiki Takehiko. “Ahhh, hello, Cousin!”

“What a pleasant surprise to see you here at the Sixth!”

“Oh, I’m just here to visit your lieutenant,” Rukia said, glancing at said lieutenant, who was currently trying to murder Kuchiki with his eyes. 

Takehiko very briefly made a face of disbelief that anyone might _voluntarily_ want to see his vice-captain, but he recovered very quickly. “My mother was _most delighted_ to hear that you had returned from your adventures, and she is very eager for you to come over and take tea--”

“Ohhhhhh,” Rukia hedged. “I don’t actually have my social calendar on me.”

“Surely you won’t be busy on Sunday afternoon?”

“I’ll let you know!” Rukia excused, continuing to walk forward doggedly.

Takehiko started to follow.

“Oi, Takehiko, I hope you kept up with those hohou drills I suggested while I was gone, eh?” Renji interrupted rather bluntly.

“Oh, errr…” Takehiko mumbled.

“Whatcha doin’ this afternoon, I got--”

“You know, I just remembered, a, um, a thing I have to do, excuse me, Lady Rukia, Vice-Captain Abarai.”

“His hohou looks just fine to me,” Rukia sniffed as the Fifth Seat made a rapid exit.

“His mom’s the awful busybody, right?” Renji asked under his breath.

Rukia looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Good memory.”

“I keep a chart,” he replied.

“Lieutenant Abarai!”

“Lady Rukia!”

Renji grabbed Rukia’s arm and pulled her into the alley between the East Training Dojo and the Fourth Barracks. “Let’s take a shortcut.”

* * *

It was sukiyaki day at the Squad Six mess.

Renji had found them a spot at a table strategically positioned behind the condiment station, and so far, they’d managed to avoid the over-eager officers looking for Renji and the sycophantic family members trying to get a bit of Rukia’s attention.

“The food is _so good_ here,” Rukia groaned.

“I know, especially after Eleven, which is horrific. I gained seven pounds after I transferred.”

“Oh noooo, your eight-pack,” Rukia deadpanned.

“I managed to convert it to muscle mass, so you shut up,” Renji grumbled, ignoring her quirked eyebrow and teasing grin. “Tell me about your fight with Captain Ukitake. Boy, I’d like to fight Captain Ukitake.”

“I’d pay money to see that,” Rukia agreed, dumping far too much hot sauce into her bowl. “Since most of your attacks are physical, as long as you avoided using _Hikotsu Taihou_ , he couldn’t redirect them.”

“I would forget and use _Hikotsu Taihou_ on him,” Renji admitted. “And then he would trash me with it and I would remember the next time. But I want to hear about how _your_ fight went.”

Rukia snorted a breath out her nose. “He trounced me. To be honest, I felt really clumsy this morning. It’s like… like I’m in the wrong body or something. You feeling anything like that?”

“Woke up with charley horses in both legs,” Renji nodded sympathetically, picking up a mushroom with his chopsticks. “I got to warm up on my 3rd and 4th seats before I got into it with your brother, but I wasn’t myself either, this morning. Your brother probably thinks I’ve been slacking the last three months.”

Rukia frowned, having just remembered something. “And Sode no Shirayuki was in my room this morning.”

That got Renji’s attention. “In person?”

“In...rabbit.”

“She ever done that before?”

“Nope.”

Renji’s eyes were wide. “That’s a big deal, Rukia.”

“I know,” she replied, a tad defensively. “I mean, maybe. Who knows what it means.”

“You gone back into your inner world and asked her?”

Rukia pursed her lips. “No, but that’s a good idea.”

Renji nodded. “Could probably stand a chat with Zabimaru myself. I wonder if they remember anything from our big adventure.”

“Sode no Shirayuki wouldn’t tell me if she did. She hates being helpful.”

Renji chuckled. “At least you don’t get attacked every time you go into your inner world. It’s like being back in Squad Eleven, I swear.”

Rukia almost knocked over her tea. “That reminds me! I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night. Madarame and I set a date.”

"I forbid you from marrying Ikkaku," Renji proclaimed. "Yumichika will gut you like a fish, that guy does not play." He frowned thoughtfully. "Also, Ikkaku is terrible. I mean, he's hot, but he's a disaster."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say any of those words," Rukia shuddered, "and clarify that we have set a date for our _fight_."

"Ohhhh," Renji replied, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, damn. You're actually going to do it, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, did you doubt me?"

"I dunno, you've both been talkin' about it for so long, it's sort of taken on mythical proportions. So when's the big day? Do I get a plus-one? It's Hanatarou, I'm bringin' Hanatarou."

"A week Saturday, and who says you're even invited?"

"I'm hurt, Rukia. This momentous occasion wouldn't even be taking place if I hadn't spent 33 years boring him to death with stories about you."

"All your stories about me are great, I would fight him over that alone. Fine, you can come. You can bring Hanatarou _if_ he wants to come, but you gotta promise to protect him from wet willies or whatever else those jerks in Squad 11 like to do to weenies from Squad 4."

"I swear on my honor as a jock that no harm shall befall him. So, what are you doing for prep?"

"You're such a drag, Abarai. Don't you ever just roll up to a fight and see how it goes?"

"I lose enough as it is." He scratched his head. "Hey, isn't there a Brawl this weekend?"

"First of all, how would I know? And second, yes there is, that's the only reason we're doing it next Saturday." 

"You wanna go? It would be a good chance to see Ikkaku in action."

"I didn't realize spectators were allowed."

"I can get you in. I have my ways."

"I don't need your help," Rukia sniffed.

Renji was quite sensitive to Rukia's moods when it came to accepting help from others. "Of course not. Don't think of it as helping, think of it as...abetting."

Rukia contemplated this. It wasn't that she didn't want his help. He was a great helper and she loved doing things with him. But, she didn't want it to look like she depended on him for everything. She wanted everyone to know that Kuchiki Rukia fought her own fights. That being said, _winning_ said fights counted for something, as well. "Okay. But if anyone asks, you're just there for shits and giggles."

"That's the only reason I do anything," Renji replied lightly. 

“Hey! Lieutenant Abarai!”

“Oh, shit, we’ve been spotted!” Renji shoved a bunch of noodles in his mouth, trying to finish his lunch before he got interrupted again.

“Oh, is the lieutenant here? Lieutenant Abarai!”

Renji fumbled around in his kosode, and pulled out not one, but two pairs of sunglasses. He shoved one pair onto his face, and thrust the other ones at Rukia.

“That isn’t going to work,” Rukia informed him. “Everyone knows what you look like in sunglasses. Also, why are you carrying two pairs?”

“For emergencies,” he mumbled around his noodles.

“Ah, is that Lady Rukia?”

“Oh, Lady Rukia!”

Rukia put on the sunglasses.

* * *

“How was _the mess_?” Byakuya asked when Renji returned, sans Rukia, exactly thirty minutes later.

“ _Dreadful_ ,” Renji replied.

* * *

When Rukia returned to the Thirteenth, they had a visitor.

Ise Nanao, vice-captain of the Eighth, was sitting in the captains’ office with Kiyone, chatting away.

“Greetings, Vice-Captain,” Rukia said quickly, bowing. She glanced surreptitiously at Kiyone, hoping for an explanation.

“It’s Wednesday,” Kiyone explained, making a drinking signal with her hand.

Rukia blinked at her, not understanding.

“Our Captains have a standing sake date on Wednesday afternoons,” Lieutenant Ise added dryly. 

“Nanao comes and helps us out with the paperwork,” Kiyone added. “Sometimes it gets a little disorganized over here.”

“Sometimes I just come over to be social,” Ise added. “And _today_ , I came over because I hear you’re going to be taking the Lieutenant’s Exam.”

Rukia smiled nervously. “That’s the plan.”

“Have you filled out an Intention to Test, yet?” Ise asked.

“Er, not yet,” Rukia excused. A _what_?

“Don’t be worried about it, I brought you all the paperwork you need.”

“Oh! Um, thanks.”

“You can fill it out right now, if you want, and I can help if you have any questions.” Nanao cocked her head to the side. “Lieutenant Sasakibe is technically in charge of the exam, but I handle the administration-- processing all the paperwork, grading the written portions, etcetera. Do you know much about the exam? How it works and such? I hear you got sort of bullied into taking it.”

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I want to take it,” she said, finally. “And I know how it works.”

Rukia had no idea how it worked.

Nanao smiled. Her smile was very neat and professional. “I’m not surprised. You’re friends with Lieutenant Abarai, after all.”

Kiyone wagged her eyebrows.

“What does he have to do with anything?” Rukia demanded. She glared at Kiyone. “And you don’t have to do that every time someone says his name.”

“He’s cute,” Kiyone mouthed back.

Nanao looked surprised. “Oh, he just seemed very… organized when he took his exam last year. Did he tell you he got a perfect score on nearly every section?”

Rukia just about choked. “He _what,_ now?”

“I think he was nervous about the kidou demonstration portion, and overprepared for the rest,” Nanao said thoughtfully. “Which is a little silly, you can be excused from up to three sections of the exam, depending on your circumstances. I, myself, don’t have a zanpakutou, but here I am.”

“You don’t?” Rukia asked, perplexed.

“Technically speaking, he did _pass_ the kidou section, just barely. And he aced the written kidou theory section, which is unusual, most people do much better on the practical part. And Kiyone’s right, he’s very cute.”

Rukia was shaking her head. That jerk. “Well,” she said, “I guess I have no choice but to get a perfect score on everything.”

* * *

The day was wearing late, and Byakuya wondered if a cup of tea would be needed to take him through the rest of the afternoon. He glanced up at the man working opposite him. Abarai was hunched over his work, several pens sticking out of his ponytail and a large smear of ink across one cheek. The younger man groped around for his own mug, which had the tags of at least nine tea bags hanging out of it. He tried to take a sip and stared at it as though it had betrayed him. Abarai sighed, then shoved his chair backwards. “Time for another cup. Get you one, sir?”

No, no, Byakuya could make it through a workday on his own energy. “I am satisfied as I am, thank you, Lieutenant.”

Abarai nodded curtly, and started banging his way around the tea station.

Byakuya pulled the next sheet of paper from the stack of this afternoon’s mail. He started to read it, then did a double take at the name of the sender. 

“Lieutenant,” Byakuya said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Did you _circulate_ a _memo_ this afternoon?”

Renji seemed to be contemplating how he was going to fit yet another tea bag into his mug. “Uh, yeah. Thought I would give it a try.” Renji suddenly realized that it was his captain talking to him. “Sir.” He straightened up. “Uh, I hope I didn’t-- I did it in anger, sir. I apologize.”

A memo from Abarai! Circulated _in anger!_ Byakuya was fully awake now. “No need to be hasty, Lieutenant, let’s see what we have here.”

_Attention, Officers of the Sixth Division_ , it started. A classic entry point, one he used habitually himself. _Kuchiki Rukia is an officer in good standing of the Gotei 13, the sister of your captain, and a close personal friend of mine._ He could hear every word in his adjutant’s gruff voice, every harsh, grating r, every dropped syllable. _If you see her about the grounds, know that she is here on business, or to visit myself or her brother. It is not an opportunity for you to bother her._ Good Heavens, Rukia had been back a single day, and the men were already giving her grief?

“I like this part very well, Lieutenant Abarai,” he said, reading the next passage aloud, “At the Sixth Division, we value cordiality and respect, and this goes far beyond addressing our visitors by their appropriate title.”

Renji looked miserable.

Byakuya turned back to the memo. _Kuchiki Rukia is stronger than any member of this division, excepting your captain. Fortunately for you, she is too polite to break your face. I, however, am not. Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain._

“I agree with your entire sentiment, Abarai,” Byakuya commented mildly, putting the memo down on his desk. “Although, I myself, would never have come up with such an eloquent turn of phrase as 'break your face.' If you had discussed it with me ahead of time, I would have been happy to reinforce the message by adding my own name.”

Renji clenched his jaw. “If you want to circulate your own memo, sir, that would be great. But you’ve told ‘em before to leave her alone, and they just do it when you’re not around. I wanted it to come from me, too.” He paused. “I’m always around. They may have forgotten that.”

“Hmm,” Byakuya replied, noncommittally, reaching for the next piece of paper in his inbox.

Abarai watched him nervously for a few moments more, probably waiting for an admonition. Byakuya had no intention of giving him one. What better way to express one’s justified displeasure than through the distribution of an acidly worded missive? Finally, Abarai picked up the sugar canister and began wrestling the lid off.

Byakuya’s eyes skimmed the next piece of mail three times before he realized he had no idea what it was. Something was sticking at him.

Abarai was not necessarily a braggart, but neither was he a humble man. Although he was still far below Byakuya's own level, it was a simple fact that he was among the strongest officers in the Gotei 13, and he did not take pains to deny this. 

“Lieutenant Abarai?” 

Renji looked up from pouring his third heaping spoonful of sugar into his cup. Byakuya desperately hoped the interruption wouldn’t cause the man to lose count.

“Was it hyperbole, or do you truly consider my sister to be stronger than yourself?”

Renji’s forehead wrinkled as dumped the sugar into his tea, as though he were trying to retrieve some long-past memory. “If she isn’t now, it’s only a matter of time,” he finally declared.

“Hmm,” Byakuya replied. “Hmmm.”

* * *

Rukia closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax as she materialized into her inner world. Cold air poured over her luxuriously. She wondered what form Sode no Shirayuki would take this time. A deer? A field mouse? Rukia reached out with her spiritual senses, trying to see if she could locate her zanpakutou spirit. With a jolt, she opened her eyes.

Rukia’s inner world mainly consisted of a pond locked in eternal winter. It was surrounded by forest, but the forest was just a boundary condition, you could walk into it for hours only to turn around and be right back where you started. The pond itself was cold, unspeakably cold, but never fully frozen. It was nominally fed by one waterfall, and flowed out through a second, except that they were both perpetually frozen, the scene anchored in a single, timeless moment.

But not today.

The outflow was still mostly solid ice, but steady streams of water poured down along the banks. The top was shiny with liquid. The upper fall appeared as normal. The pond was quiescent as always and at its proper water level.

Strangest of all, Sode no Shirayuki stood near the lip of the lower cascade. Instead of her usual elaborate furisode, she was wearing a springtime yukata, tied up as though she were doing chores. Her hair was pinned up, but incompetently, the work of a woman whose maid has gone on strike. Water coursed over her bare feet. She looked horrified.

“Rukia!” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Usually, Rukia’s zanpakutou spirit was aloof and mysterious, unflappable and utterly in control of this place. Rukia had to suppress the initial urge to laugh at her like this, flustered and in disarray, except that it was absolutely not funny to find one’s inner world falling apart.

“I...live here,” Rukia replied. “Is everything okay?”

Sode no Shirayuki blew a piece of hair out of her face. “I am performing maintenance. I told you that you should not have stayed in the Living World for so long, it has had… ill effects.” She wrung her hands. “I shall fix everything, though, there is no need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Rukia reassured her, walking around the edge of the lake toward the waterfall. Something clicked in her brain. “We were in the World of the Living?”

Of course they were. It made sense. They’d been in gigais, obviously, that would explain the bodily disorientation, although it had been much worse than after her last extended trip to the Living World. Some kind of special gigai, perhaps, suited to their mission, harder to disengage from. She and Renji were somewhat experts on the Living World at this point, that would be a good use of their skills. “We weren’t in Karakura, were we?” 

Sode no Shirayuki cocked her head. “You don’t remember?”

Rukia frowned. “They wiped our memories. The last thing I remember was taking some sort of Squad 2 aptitude test.”

A strange look came over Sode no Shirayuki’s face, a brief involuntary sadness. She quickly composed herself. “It is honestly for the best, my dear. I shall have us back to normal in no time.”

Rukia leaned down to let the running water flow over her fingers. It was bone-chilling, far colder than the freezing point of normal water. At least things weren’t warming up, the way they had after she had given her powers to Ichigo. “You were in my room this morning.”

Sode no Shirayuki shrugged with one shoulder, a strangely human gesture. “Perhaps some of your memory loss has affected me as well.”

Rukia glanced over the drop-off. As usual, whatever lay below was hidden by thick fog. “I was just wondering… if maybe… that wasn’t the first time you’d come out of my inner world. If maybe we’d started working on bankai.”

Sode no Shirayuki’s nose twitched. “We are always working on bankai.”

Rukia blinked. “We are?”

“It is not yet time. You will know when it is time.”

Rukia stood up again. “Will it be… soonish?”

“Sooner than it once was.” Sode no Shirayuki narrowed her eyes. “Do not rush things, Rukia. The circumstances of you achieving bankai are not joyful. You will have it when you need it.”

Rukia made a face. Sode no Shirayuki was so full of herself sometimes. “Can you actually see the future? You always act like you can.”

The ice spirit took a deep breath through her nose. “We can see paths. Probabilities. Possibilities. Sometimes, events are very clear. Inevitable. Other times, there are many branches. The battle against Aizen could have gone many ways, and for a long time, it was difficult to see past it.”

Rukia leaned forward slightly. “Am I going to pass my exam?”

“That is of no matter to me.”

Rukia frowned. “If something bad were going to happen to me, would you do anything about it?”

Sode no Shirayuki dipped her hand into the flowing water, and it hardened into a ridge of ice. “What makes you think I have not already?”

* * *

Renji materialized into his inner world, and was immediately slammed with 400 pounds of enthusiastic nue.

He really should have expected this.

He tried to plant his feet and get some kind of leverage on the monster, but he couldn't find any purchase as they went tumbling through the foliage. Finally, they skidded to a halt, Renji on his back, Zabimaru looming over him. The baboon head lowered gently, _clonking_ into his own forehead. Then the beast sat back on its haunches, the snake tail waving back and forth excitedly.

Renji shoved his bandana back into its usual position and sat up. He was no stranger to getting attacked immediately upon entering his inner world, but this exuberant greeting was new. "What the hell was that?"

"It is good to be home!" Zabimaru announced. "We can feel you again! Where is Rukia?"

Renji paused in the middle of brushing himself off. "You remember? You still have your memories from the last three months? And what is that supposed to mean, 'where is Rukia?'"

"Of course, we remember everything!" the snake head announced. "It was dark and muffled there! We hated it! But then we became cold and strong and five instead of three, like we used to be."

At this point, the baboon head interrupted. "That's not true at all. We became _one_ like we used to be. We are always one, although sometimes we are a different one. And then we were small and we ate things in the woods, small things with feathers and fur, that squeaked and bled delightfully!"

Renji ran his fingers through his ponytail, checking for small, many-legged creatures. He should have known Zabimaru wouldn't actually be any help.

"And then we defeated a great enemy, all together, it was magnificent," the baboon finished.

"Us, not you," the snake head clarified to Renji.

"He was there," the baboon offered generously. "And Rukia, we could not have done it without Rukia."

Renji sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do you remember what we were fighting?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"It was a very strong Nothing."

Renji contemplated this briefly. Then, he spun, grabbed Zabimaru around the midsection, and hurled them into the lagoon.

In an uncharacteristic display of wimpishness, the beast came scrabbling desperately out of the water, whimpering, the snaketail held awkwardly high. They crouched on the shore, shivering and regarding Renji with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, like you ain’t thrown me in there hundreds of times,” Renji snorted.

“Cold!” the snaketail hissed back at him.

Curiously, Renji knelt next to the water and dipped his hand in.

It was _freezing_. 

Renji frowned. It was usually tepid, if not downright bath-waterish. He looked up at the waterfall that supplied it. It was raging and roaring as normal, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to tell if it were stronger than usual. Winter was ending now, out in Soul Society, rivers would be swelling with snow melt. Maybe his subconscious was just feeling seasonal. 

“Been awhile since I tried to climb that thing,” he noted. “Might be time for another go.”

Zabimaru shuddered.

* * *

“What do you think of the mentaiko, Sister?” Byakuya asked mildly. His entire mouth was on fire.

“It’s delightful, Brother,” Rukia returned, her face a portrait of calm.

“The marinade features a new cultivar of ogon pepper. I first had it at the White Lotus last month, and had our chef procure some, as I expected you would enjoy them.” He took another bite of pollack roe. His tongue protested vehemently.

“These little fellows?” Rukia asked, holding up a little yellow pepper the size of a bird’s eye chili with her chopsticks.

“Do not eat them directly,” Byakuya warned. He refused to look at his water glass. “They will injure you. They are only to flavor the sauce.”

“Hmm,” Rukia replied, considering hers.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. She was bluffing. It was a good bluff, though. It was Byakuya’s suspicion that Rukia actually had a maximum higher tolerance for spice than himself, but he was more skilled at maintaining a stolid demeanor for extended periods of time. Drawing this out was to his advantage. Upping the ante was to hers.

Rukia bit into the pepper.

Byakuya almost grabbed his glass of water by proxy. 

Rukia’s face flushed scarlet. Her nose wrinkled and her eyes watered. She frantically grabbed for her napkin and turned her back to spit out the offending capiscum. She then chugged her entire glass of water, and stuffed a huge mouthful of rice in her mouth. Cheeks full, she offered him a slightly embarrassed smile. “You win,” she mumbled.

Byakuya very slowly and triumphantly took a long, slow sip of water, not letting an atom of the immense relief he felt show on his face.

He loved this game. Rukia was only the second person who had ever beaten him at it. Although he bested her more often than not, it was always hard-fought. To be fair, she was also only the second person who had ever played it knowingly-- usually his opponents were unwitting guests he did not care for. He remembered a particularly amusing occasion when he and Rukia had entertained the odious Noragashi family, stone-facedly consuming atomically spiced udon while their guests twitched and teared up. 

He had missed her like hell.

Byakuya set down his water glass. “Are you all right?”

Rukia chewed and swallowed. “Mm, yes. Apologies for my poor table manners, Brother.”

“It is no matter. It is only us.”

A strange, happy look came over Rukia’s face, and Byakuya’s heart squeezed. He quickly changed the subject. “You had a productive afternoon, I trust? After recovering from the horrors of my company’s dining accommodations?”

Rukia looked confused for a moment. “Lunch was fine. Nice, even. I spent most of the afternoon getting my paperwork filled out for taking the lieutenant’s exam.” She took another bite of her dinner. Byakuya was awed by her ability to jump right back into the breach. “Do you remember taking yours?”

“Hmm?” he realized he hadn’t really been paying attention.

“The lieutenant’s exam. Do you remember preparing for it? It was probably a long time ago, eh?”

Was… was she calling him _old_? “I didn’t,” he replied off-handedly. 

“You didn’t…?” she asked, confused.

“Prepare. I am perpetually training to improve myself, and when I had reached the level appropriate for an adjutant, I took the exam and passed easily.” He considered the matter. “I was quite young. Twenty, perhaps?”

Rukia choked a little. “ _Twenty_?”

Twenty, thirty, something like that. “I did not take a vice-captaincy at that time,” he clarified. “It’s a dreadful position, full of drudgery. The only captain I had any interest in seconding was my grandfather.” He paused for a moment. Or my father, he did not add. “And so I remained at the Thirteenth until the position became open.”

“Do you know how you did?” Rukia asked idly, poking her rice.

“I passed,” he replied.

“But how did you score?”

“The scores do not matter, only the pass or fail.” This was true, of course, if you had a position lined up, a convenient grandfather holding a space for you. He supposed high numbers did have a certain use when trying to convince a captain who’d never heard of you to take a chance on some undistinguished sixth seat from the worst division in the Gotei.

“I want to get a really high score.”

“Rukia.”

Rukia looked up, and there was something about her hopeful, optimistic face that made his gut clench. 

“I realize that we have already discussed your career aspirations extensively, and I apologize for retreading old ground. You probably find my repeated harping to be dreadfully tedious. But I feel I need to bring it up again.”

Rukia’s brows furrowed. “Are you referring to when you asked me if I still wished to be a Soul Reaper? A week after you adopted me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Uh, it’s okay. That was over forty years ago. It might be time for a revisit.”

“You have had a very trying year. Being thrown into circumstances far beyond what you signed up for.”

Rukia tipped her head to one side, an absent-minded smile creeping onto her face. “Maybe.”

“Rukia, what do you do when you _aren’t_ working?”

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. Dicking around with your lieutenant didn’t seem like a very good answer. Shooting back “What do you do when _you’re_ not working?” seemed even worse. “Training,” she said slowly. “Reading. Trying to improve myself.”

He looked at her very seriously.

“I’ve made a lot of new friends in the last few months,” Rukia blurted out.

“Yes, I have noticed that you have begun socializing with the lieutenant class, particularly the common ones. Rukia, you have all of the choices possible, and you choose to spend all your time working and associating with career soldiers.”

“Aren’t… you a career soldier?” Rukia asked, genuinely confused at this point.

“It is one of my duties to represent the dedication of our family’s martial strength to the defense of the Seireitei, and to lead the Sixth. I will not deny that, for the most part, I have enjoyed this opportunity and that I derive a great deal of satisfaction from it. But great spiritual power and fighting prowess are my birthright. Few of the lieutenants could ever hope to reach my level, even with centuries of training.”

Rukia set her mouth. “I suppose that goes for myself, as well.”

Byakuya gave her a gentle look. “If you enjoy being a soul reaper, Sister, you may continue on in your current position. But vice-captaincy is suitable only as an apprenticeship for captaincy, or for those who seek higher social standing, which, obviously, you do not need.” 

Rukia pressed her lips together. She had about a thousand comebacks to that, none of them the least bit helpful. “Well, the Captain-General ordered me to take the exam,” she finally blurted out.

“Taking the examination merely _qualifies_ you for the position. You are not actually obligated to take on such a position.”

“I think Captain Ukitake really wants me to be his vice-captain,” Rukia replied assertively, taking another bite of rice. Their talk that morning had surprised her, to be honest. The few times over the years she had approached him about testing for a seat, he had put her off. He always seemed to be worried about her constitution or some nonsense like that. Perhaps her adventures with Ichigo, et al, had convinced him that she was made of sterner stuff after all. Still, she had never heard of anyone going from unranked straight to vice-captain. Well, Captain Zaraki had gone directly from unranked to captain, she supposed. The comparison was not especially reassuring.

“The duties of an assistant captain are dreadfully tedious,” Byakuya pointed out. “You would be responsible for the day-to-day supervision of your officers, their training and well-being, materiel, payroll--”

“Renji really likes it,” Rukia pointed out. “He says it’s very satisfying, helping people achieve their potential. He also says that working with an experienced and knowledgeable captain is a great opportunity to strengthen yourself.” 

Byakuya didn't seem to register the thinly veiled compliment. “My vice-captain is a fool, as you well know, with a great many proletarian opinions.”

Rukia cocked her head to one side. “Are you trying to tell me not to take the test?”

“As you said, you have your orders. I merely wish to make sure you know that you have options.”

An idea was percolating in Rukia’s brain, green and poisonous. “Do you think… that I wouldn’t make a good vice-captain?”

Byakuya’s mouth hung open for a moment, before snapping shut. He appeared to be wrestling with something.

Rukia leaned forward slightly, waiting.

Byakuya’s eyes slid to her face, and something in his brain snapped into position. “If I thought you would shame our family name by failing the examination or doing a poor job in the post, obviously, I would outright forbid it.” He poked at his food in a very un-Byakuya sort of way. “I merely think it may not be the best use of your skills and talents. There are many things you could do with your life, you know, Rukia. If you wish to pursue some avocation, say, or if there were some philanthropic cause you wished to champion, or… we have never discussed if you had any interest in marriage.”

“I like being a shinigami,” Rukia blurted out. They had successfully avoided discussing the topic of matrimony (with respect to either one of them) for over four decades, and she had no interest in breaking that streak. “You know what I _would_ like to do, Brother?”

“What?” he asked, his voice strangely small.

“If we could start up my lessons on the Kuchiki sword form again.”

“It will not help you with the lieutenant’s examination,” he warned.

“That’s okay. I just like spending time with you.” His face looked like she had just pinned him with a _Rikujoukourou_. Rukia offered him a hopeful smile. “I know you’re busy,” she said softly. “I’m not the only one who works too much.”

Byakuya swallowed and recomposed his face. “You wish to spend time with me?”

Rukia nodded. “Yes. It doesn’t have to be swords.”

Byakuya nodded curtly. “I have many hobbies and leisure activities. Please reserve some time on Saturday morning. As it happens, I have a project I could use some assistance with.” He paused. “Or at the very least, I would enjoy the company. And of course we shall start up sword lessons again, you have surely forgotten all of your fundamentals by now.”

Rukia smiled. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

  
  


~end part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya attempts to reason with Ukitake (it doesn't work). Akon discovers something interesting. Rukia and Renji try to jog their memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So, uh, does Rukia actually know that Byakuya is the reason she's unseated? In my opinion, it's ambiguous. Chappy (the soul candy in Rukia's gigai) tells Ichigo while Rukia is presumably within earshot, except that Rukia acts like she couldn't hear what she was saying afterward, and Ichigo responds to Chappy with "I don't think exposition is really for you." It's a really confusing part and I choose to regard it as some 4th-wall breaking exposition, but I think it's an equally legit interpretation that Rukia does know.
> 
> HOWEVER, for the purposes of this story, she's doesn't, at least not yet. Renji does, though. He figured it out with his jock brain and bullied Ukitake into confirming it back in the first story of this series, Not Broken, Just Bent. 
> 
> Thank you for you indulgence, I now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.

* * *

* * *

Rukia held up her other hand, and Akon very carefully poked the pad of each finger with a small, sharp wooden stick. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”

“Great. Looks like your reflexes are a little degraded, but not too badly. It’s to be expected. I want you to come back next week, and we’ll test you again.”

Rukia sighed. Wasn’t one trip to the Twelfth Division enough? She’d been ordered to stop over for a check-up to make sure there weren’t any lingering ill effects from her mission. That was an ominous thing to be told, that there might be “lingering effects” from something she didn’t even remember.

“I’m gonna take a reiatsu reading and then we’ll be done, all right?”

“Sounds good.”

Akon strapped a plastic band around her upper arm. It was attached to a little handheld reader, which he started fiddling with. “Hey, I heard you’re testing for lieutenant soon. I’ve been thinking about taking the test myself.”

“Yeah?” Rukia asked. She’d only met Akon once or twice, and certainly didn’t remember him being this conversational. 

“Yeah. I heard Abarai was the guy to talk to about it, so I figured I would wait until he got back. I’m in no hurry. I’m not interested in leaving Twelve, and Nemu isn’t going anywhere. You get a pay bump for passing it though, even if you don't take a vice-captaincy.”

Rukia frowned. “Are you... _friends_...with Renji?” Renji was friends with an awful lot of people, but she didn’t think even _he_ was friends with the weirdos in Squad Twelve.

“Well, you and me and him got to be sort of buddies before you left,” Akon shrugged. “By my standards, anyway. You probably don’t remember that, I guess.”

“No,” Rukia replied, shaking her head. “What… how…?”

“I was responsible for some of your equipment,” Akon said, unhelpfully. “Okay, got your resting rate. Can you flex your reiatsu and hold it? Casual sparring level? Yeah, that’s perfect, hold that for about thirty seconds.”

“Do you know where we went?”

“Nope.”

“Were we in gigais?”

“Okay, release.” He looked up from the reader. “Do you remember being in gigais?”

“I don’t remember _anything_ and it’s maddening! But my body’s felt weird and you’re testing my reflexes and Renji said he had muscle cramps... it all sounds like coming out of a long stay in a gigai to me.”

Akon looked back down at his device. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. Okay, flex your reiatsu again, as strong as you can.”

Rukia made a face and got _mad._ It wasn’t hard.

“Phew!” Akon blinked. “Can you hold it that high?”

Rukia got _madder_.

The seconds ticked by. “Got it. You can relax.”

Rukia huffed, and let her spiritual pressure dissipate. “Are they worried that if you tell me, it will make other memories come back?”

“No, I don’t care. The dicks from Squad 2 just told me to not say anything..” He glanced out toward the hallway. “Yeah. You were in gigais.” He poked some buttons on his device. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Your reiatsu changed. It doesn’t match the reading we have from before you left.”

“I got stronger, you mean?”

“Well, you did, but also, its harmonic signature changed. Did you have any breakthroughs with your zanpakutou?”

Rukia frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not a big change, just a few sub-frequencies have become more dominant. Happens to shinigami from time to time, usually when they discover a new power.”

“Oh. Ichigo’s has changed a couple of times.”

“Yeah, yours is nothing compared to that. We’ll check that next week, too, it’s possible it will go back to normal. Maybe try talking to your zanpakutou spirit, see if anything’s up.”

"I did, yesterday, actually. She likes being cryptic, I didn’t get anything useful out of her.” She frowned. “Do you have a zanpakutou?”

“Of course I do,” Akon replied. He offered no further details as he packed up his equipment again. “That’s it. You’re free. Tell your buddy to make sure and stop by, too.”

“His captain has him trapped under a mountain of paperwork. I’ll tell him, though.”

“And lemme know how that exam goes.”

Rukia regarded Akon carefully. His face was as impassive as usual, and itif she blew him off, he probably wouldn’t even take it personally. On the other hand, maybe it would be nice to have someone in the Twelfth who she could consider at least non-hostile. And he _had_ told her about the gigais. “Will do,” she agreed.

* * *

“Okay, Squad, who’s ready for Shinigami vs. Hollows?”

An enthusiastic roar went up among the members of the Thirteenth Division who weren’t out on field patrols or busy with other duties. Captain Ukitake often liked to have the squad do exercises that were half-games, half-drills. They were usually quite fun and very popular among the troops.

“We’re going to change this up a little!” Ukitake announced. “We usually do two groups of shinigami on one group of Hollows, but today we’re going to split into four groups. “Myself and Kotetsu will lead the shinigami; Kotsubaki and Kuchiki will take the two teams of Hollows. We’ll take fifteen minutes to strategize, and then we’ll get started!”

Rukia blinked, surprised. Her captain had never held back from assigning duties based on strengths, rather than rank before, but she had never been asked to lead a team during a drill before. That being said, Rukia was well-known as a fierce Shinigami vs. Hollows player, and she had some _ideas._

After their captain finished sorting people into teams, Rukia gathered her people together. “I’ve been doing this exercise for a long time, and I recently came up with--”

“‘Scuse me. I have a question,” a voice loudly announced. A tall woman with long, light brown hair raised her hand lazily. 

“I don’t think I know you,” Rukia admitted. 

“Ooshima Nagi,” the woman introduced herself. “Seventh Seat. Just transferred over from the Fifth a month ago. So I’m a little new here, and I was wondering why it was that in the Thirteenth, officers need to follow the orders of unseated nobodies?” It wasn’t a question so much as an outright challenge.

Rukia bristled. “Because your captain ordered you to, that’s why.”

“Mmm,” Ooshima frowned. “I thought maybe it had something to do with your last name.”

“Well, it doesn’t,” Rukia replied. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s the captain’s pet,” a male voice grumbled.

"You shut up, Rukia'll kick your ass, and so will I!" someone else shouted back.

Rukia felt the tips of her ears burning. "Thank you, Honda, but I can handle my own ass-kickings."

Rukia had been in the Thirteenth for a long time, and had a lot of friends there, but there was still a significant contingent that she had never gotten close to. She rarely encountered the raw hostility she had gotten when she first joined-- a kid noble who didn't even finish at the Academy, clearly a favor the captain was doing for a friend. Up until now, she just had managed to avoid those people when she could, and keep things professional otherwise. She supposed that once she was their vice-captain, that would no longer be an option. 

Rukia sneered. “Probably the reason I’ve been put in charge of this team is because, as far as I know, I’m the only person in this company who has _actually been_ to Hueco Mundo, and what I want us to do today is based on the way large masses of Hollows act in the wild, which I picked up in the Forest of the Menos. Does anyone want to hear it, or shall I go tell the captain that you weren’t interested?”

“I want to hear it, Rukia!” Hiiragi, a fellow unseated officer shouted. “I mean, uh, Kuchiki.”

Rukia glanced out of the corner of her eye at Ooshima, who was regarding her contemptuously, but silently. Rukia guessed the woman didn’t want any actual trouble, she just wanted to throw her weight around a bit. Well, she could fuck right off with that.

"Anyone who wants an ass-kicking can come find me later, but right now, we have a drill to run, and I'm not interested in losing to those other chumps, so listen up!"

Rukia explained her plan.

* * *

“Are you still working your way through that backlog?” Byakuya asked.

Renji’s eyes appeared over the stack of paper threatening to tip off the edge of his desk. “Yeah. Yeah, I am, sir.”

“I need the use of the office for an hour or so this afternoon,” Byakuya informed him. “Perhaps you could go perform a surprise inspection or find some other way to bother the men.”

Renji’s eyes widened eagerly for a moment, then he seemed to remember something. “I actually need to go over to Squad 12. I could get that taken care of.”

“Squad 12?” Byakuya frowned. “Whatever for?”

“Not sure, exactly. Squad 2 has been sending me increasingly nasty butterflies about it. I guess they need to check for some after-effects from my mission.”

Byakuya made a noise in his throat. “By all means, then. I need you free of after-effects.”

Renji grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“And don’t idle, Lieutenant, my meeting should be brief.”

“Uh, sure. You want me out now?”

“If you don’t mind, Lieutenant.”

Byakuya watched silently as Renji shored up his piles of paperwork and then departed. “Ah, good afternoon, Captain Ukitake!” Byakuya winced as he heard his adjutant’s muffled greeting. “Nope, just on my way out! Sounds like Captain Kuchiki’s expecting you.” Byakuya sighed. He’d hoped to have Abarai out of the way before Ukitake's arrival, but then his lacksadaisical former mentor never seemed to realize that arriving ahead of schedule was nearly as rude as being late.

“Hellooo!” Juushirou greeted cheerfully, sticking his head into the office.

“Come in, Captain,” Byakuya said dryly. “You are exceedingly early.”

“I wasn’t too busy this afternoon,” Juushirou replied, pulling up a chair. “I had Rukia lead a drill this morning, she did just great for her first time. What did you want to see me about?”

Byakuya steepled his fingers. “I wished to discuss my sisters’ future service in your division, as it happens.”

“Didn’t we just talk about this the other day?”

“I had not fully appreciated the ramifications at that time.”

Juushirou’s brows creased. “I hope what you mean is that you’ve come to accept what a wonderful lieutenant your sister is going to make and how good this is going to be for her both personally and professionally.”

Byakuya _glared_ at him. “She seems quite determined to take the exam, and, although I shall continue to encourage her to explore her options, she is quite taken with the idea of lieutenancy. As I have considered it further, it occurs to me that your squad has for some time adapted its duties to suit the capabilities of you and… what do you call those odd little people that aren’t your adjutants?”

“My Third Seats?”

“Really? They’re your Third Seats?”

Juushirou sighed and cocked his head to one side. “What is your point?”

“That a quiet administrative post would suit Rukia well. She has lovely handwriting and is very organized--”

“Byakuya, no.”

Byakuya cleared his throat. “Come again?”

“ _No._ I need a fully functional vice-captain. I’m not an _invalid_. It’s true that I need a strong second to support me, and that we haven’t been thriving in our current configuration, but we ran perfectly well when I had Lieutenant Shiba, and we shall do so again, once Rukia finds her legs. I have the utmost confidence in her.”

Byakuya pursed his lips. He opened his mouth.

“And _even if I did_ coddle her, as you are asking me to, it wouldn’t do you or her any favors. It would just give her more free time to train towards captain, and how are you going to keep her out of trouble once she steals your vice-captain and starts running her own division?”

Byakuya sniffed. “Now you are just being facetious. We both know my sister is not captain-potential.”

Juushirou tipped his head. “I would not say that. She’s got a ways to go, of course, but she’s improved so dramatically in just the last year. I wouldn’t put anything past her. Have you ever fought your sister, Byakuya?”

Byakuya sneered. “I have been instructing her in the family sword style. She works very hard, but her progress is unimpressive.”

Juushirou shrugged. “Your family sword style is tedious and persnickety and requires thousands of hours of practice. It’s a testament to her dedication that she’s taking it up at her age. Don’t you usually start training in childhood?”

“Yes, well, what better things do children have to do?” Byakuya waved his hands.

“Anyway, she’s a real pistol, your sister. I like her. And you never know how people are going to progress. I'm sure you'd never have guessed Abarai was going to break out his bankai a month after you hired him, eh?”

Byakuya’s nose wrinkled. “His exam scores were superlative. It should have come as a surprise to no one.”

A grin spread over Juushirou’s face. “His _exam scores_? You hired him because of his _exam scores_?”

Byakuya huffed. “They caught my attention, certainly. His job application was fifteen pages long. You know how I appreciate an attention to detail. And enthusiasm for the Sixth Division.” He frowned uncomfortably. “I asked Captain Aizen’s opinion on him, and got a smug diatribe on all of Abarai’s personal failings. It was so nauseating that I… may have hired him out of spite. I stand by it, though.”

Juushirou leaned forward. “Let me propose a little wager, then.”

“I am not a gambling man.”

“This will be fun. If Rukia scores higher on her exam than Abarai did, you agree to keep your nose out of her career plans.”

"Overall score or on each section?" Byakuya frowned.

Ukitake made a face. "Oh, overall. I'm not crazy. Also, if she does the kaido section, those points count, even though it's optional. I seem to remember that he skipped it." Ukitake had been a proctor on Renji's exam the year previous, and knew quite well what he was proposing.

“And if she scores somewhere between a pass and a blowout?”

“Then I will agree to hover protectively over for her for a period of one year after she’s appointed lieutenant, or until you’ve realized that she’s much stronger than you give her credit for, whichever comes first.”

“It is not a matter of strength! And five years!”

Juushirou narrowed his eyes. “It’s not about her at all, is it? And two.”

“That,” Byakuya replied, his voice low, “is none of your business. Three.”

“Don't you owe me a game of shogi?" Juushirou pondered.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I win, it's two, you win, its three."

Byakuya gritted his teeth. "You're on, old man." 

* * *

"Glad you could find the time to drop by," Akon said dryly as Renji hopped up on the exam table.

"My afternoon opened up," Renji admitted. "Good thing, too. My brain is starting to melt from all that paperwork." He paused thoughtfully. "Or maybe it's half melted already from the memory wipe."

"You observing some cognitive dysfunction?" Akon probed, taking the joke completely at face value. 

"Dysfunction seems about the right word for it," Renji admitted, realizing that maybe it wasn’t actually so funny. "Here, I gotta story for you. So, usually when I work late, I finish, I pack up, I lock up the office, I go down to the mess, I eat dinner and go home. Sometimes, if it’s too late I get to-go dinner and eat at home."

"Okaaaay," Akon drew out, not really sure where this was going.

"I don't think about any of this, it's just autopilot. Except that yesterday, instead of going to the mess, I _left the Division grounds entirely_ , walked down to the _Market District_ , and when I got home, I had all this _food_ , except none of it was food I could eat, it was all stuff you would need to prepare somehow. I am not a food guy. I don’t know how to cook for shit. Why would I do this?"

"What'd you do?" Akon asked breathlessly, having become oddly invested in this, despite himself.

"Well, I went back out to the mess," Renji excused. "But _then,_ this morning, I got out of bed and I guess I made miso soup. I don't know how to make soup. I've never made soup in my life. I was half asleep while I was doing it, I couldn't tell you how to make it now if all of Soul Society depended on it."

Akon nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah...they really shouldn't have used a standard memory replacer on you, this is very typical Squad 2."

"Come again?" Renji leaned forward. This was not the answer he had expected.

"They mind-wiped you because there were certain mission details they wanted to keep classified. Which, to be honest, is better for you anyway. Then you don't have to worry about knowing things you aren't supposed to know. Good security measures. But you were out there for three months. You learned stuff, you developed new habits. You obviously learned to cook. That shit gets baked in. It started to become part of you. 

"Now, I can do a more complete memory wipe on you, if you like. It'll take a few hours, and it might scrape off some personality traits, but you won't have weird ghost memories anymore and it should stop the sleep-cooking. Kuchiki was complaining about that, too, stray memories, not the cooking part. I should let her know that's an option."

Renji was making a face.

Akon regarded him silently for a minute. "How was that soup?" he finally asked.

"It was good," Renji admitted. "It was real good."

Akon shrugged. "Well, it's up to you. Hey, I need to check your reiatsu, okay? Kuchiki had some weirdness with hers."

"Uh, sure."

Akon repeated the same procedure he'd performed on Rukia the previous day. When he had finished, he squinted at the results, then pulled a folder out of a filing cabinet, and looked back and forth at the results.

"Everything okay?" Renji asked, starting to feel a little worried.

"How long you known Kuchiki?" Akon asked. It didn't seem like a casual question.

"Rukia, you mean? I know a lot of Kuchikis."

"Yeah, yeah, Rukia."

"Long time. Fifty years."

Akon looked at him over the top of the folder. "Really? You been close that whole time?"

Renji fidgeted. "We were close as kids, and then we didn't speak to each other for forty years. Been close again in the last year."

Akon nodded. "Okay. That makes sense, then."

"What? What makes sense?"

Akon put two printouts down on the table. "Here's you and here's Kuchiki before you left." He put down the reiatsu reader and a third printout. "Here's you and Kuchiki now."

Renji's eyes scanned over the various squiggly graphs. There were a lot of numbers at the bottom of the page. "What am I looking at?" he finally asked.

"You’re becoming more like each other. Look at this frequency in Kuchiki’s, this double harmonic," Akon replied. “She had it before, you see, but it was real minor, and now it’s much bigger.” He tapped the other print out. “It’s the dominant wave pattern in yours. And this one, over, here, in yours, used to register at about 15 Hz, but it’s slowed way down, to about 5. Kuchiki’s got this real long wavelength undertone, see, and I think you’re starting to develop one too.” He looked up. “You synched up. I mean, you're not gonna be using each other's zanpakutou anytime soon, but there is a very distinct _convergence_."

"What does that mean?" Renji asked. "What could cause that?"

"Couple of possibilities," Akon shrugged. "Some of them are kinda wacko, I don't want to get you all worked up. Like I told Kuchiki, it may be temporary. I'd like to check it again in a week, and _then_ we can start wildly speculating. I wish I had a reading from when you were younger. It’s possibly you’re actually reverting to a more natural state."

"Okay," Renji agreed, not feeling particularly satisfied with the answer. "You seem very relaxed about this. I am not feeling very relaxed about it. Do you have the ability in your weird Squad 12 brain to be reassuring?"

Akon pondered this seriously, clearly not taking any offense. "Okay, so out of all the things I can think of off the top of my head that could cause this, about twenty of them are great big nothings. Super boring. There are at least five possibilities that mean you guys can develop some extremely sweet combo attacks."

"Okay, this is helping. I feel a little better."

"There are really only three that involve your independent corporeality breaking down, and out of those, for one, you would never have lasted this long, and for another one, you would at least get a brief period of being able to pull off sweet combo attacks before you discorporated. Just, like, _wicked sweet_ , though."

"I feel less better."

"It's probably nothing. I'm keeping an eye on it. Come back in a week. Come back together, if you can swing it."

"Okay," Renji agreed slowly. "Is that it?"

"I got the data I need, yeah, but I had something I wanted to ask you. On a more personal note."

"Oh, yeah?" Renji asked, guardedly. What kinda personal question could Akon possibly have? Was this gonna be more about him and Rukia’s history?

"I'm thinking about taking the Lieutenant’s Exam sometime. Didn't know if you might have some time to talk about it."

Renji's face split into a relieved grin. "I _always_ have time to talk about the Lieutenant’s Exam."

* * *

Rukia tapped the end of her brush against her chin. She checked the instructions again. She turned the page over, hoping there would be an example. There was not. 

Rukia rested her chin on one hand. Her mind kept wandering back to the morning’s training exercise. She’d had a good game plan, and her team would have cleaned house, if they had actually followed it. To be fair, about half of them had. Some of the others may have been legitimately confused-- Rukia admitted that her plan was a teensy bit complicated, and they hadn’t had a chance to practice. But Ooshima had conveniently misunderstood her directions, which blew the timing on the ambush, and lost them three of their flags. Then several of her other team members screwed up as well, with the same syrupy, over-apologetic excuses. Rukia ground her teeth. What were you supposed to do with assholes like that?

There was a series of raps on the office door--a long, followed by four shorts. 

Rukia's head popped up. "Renji?"

The door slid open and Renji's head ducked in. "Shh, I'm not really here. Is your captain back yet?"

“My captain? No, he had a meeting or something. You need him?”

“No, he’s over at Six, and your brother kicked me out so they could use the office. I just did my checkup over at Twelve and thought I would swing by on the way back and see if they were done yet.”

“Well, he’s not, so get in here and help me with this dumb form!" she hissed. "Kiyone said she was going to 'teach me about reimbursement requests' and then she ran off with Sentarou."

"You got duped," Renji informed her, coming into the office and shutting the door behind him.

"I know I did! Just come tell me what to put on this line!"

He sauntered over and peered past her shoulder. 

"We loaned a pair of field officers to Squad 7, but then we had to pay Squad 12 for equipment they used. We pay a monthly fee for that, do I have to prorate it? I mean, we would be paying for it anyway."

"You should have a chart somewhere of the fully loaded hourly rate for each of your officers, which is what you charge other people for using them. It includes stuff like that." Renji leafed through the papers on her desk. "Here you go, this looks like it. Now, you should have a receipt from Iba with the total hours logged, and that's what you put in Box 6. Box 8 is for physical equipment you provided, not stuff used in the usual course of business."

"Oh," Rukia blinked. "That was much easier than I thought. Kiyone always makes these things sound so complicated. Thanks." She smiled gratefully at him.

"No problem," Renji replied warmly, before his eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! There was something I was going to tell you!" He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how to say this, actually.”

Rukia made a quizzical face at him.

Renji made a stupid face back at her. 

Rukia snickered. “C’mon, just out with it.”

Renji blew some air out of his cheeks. "Well, like I said, I was just over at Twelve, and, well-- Akon says our reiatsu is synching up, and I just thought you should know."

" _What_?" Rukia echoed.

"He showed me some graphs. Looked like some nonsense to me, but science ain’t my strong suit. Said he wanted to check again next week before he made any guesses about what's going on, and that we should go back together. Also, he said to tell you that if you wanted him to do a better job of wiping your memories, he could."

"Why would I want that?" Rukia exclaimed.

"Why does Squad 12 put eyeballs on electronics? It's a mystery! I'm just passing along the message."

"Well, thanks, I guess. I'll stick with my vague, maddening ghost memories, if it's all the same."

"That's what I said, too.” Renji smiled at her again. “I gotta go. Good luck with your paperwork."

"Hey!" Rukia protested. "You can't just come in here and drop 'our reiatsu has synched' and leave again!"

“I should really get back to the office. Maybe your captain went somewhere else afterwards.”

"Well, what are you doing after work, then? Brother's got some hot date with the Minister of Fancy-Crap-I-Don't-Care-About, so I'm on my own for dinner. You wanna go out?"

"It's the United Upper Rukongai Minister for Economic Development," Renji said distractedly, as an idea began forming in his head.

Rukia huffed. "I swear, we would all be happier if he'd just adopted _you_ instead."

"Can we meet at my place? At six-thirty, maybe?"

"Your place? I guess. That should give me time to go home and change out of my uniform. You don't want to go anywhere fancy, do you?"

"Huh? No, I got kind of a crazy idea, but if it doesn't work out, we can go to that awful ramen place you like, okay? I’m not paying though, hope you’re in the mood for stunt eating." 

"I am always in the mood for stunt eating!"

He tapped a box on the form, "Don't forget to charge administrative overhead, which is your own time. Always charge at least an hour. See you tonight!"

* * *

When Renji returned to the Squad 6 offices, he could feel Captain Ukitake's cool, calm reiatsu still about, in addition to Byakuya's more familiar presence. He decided to just hang around, though-- the two captains had to be nearly done, and Renji could feel it in his bones that his boss was gonna be pissed at him if he wasn't ready to jump right back onto that pile of paperwork.

To his surprise, there was someone else waiting in the office antechambers-- a noble someone by the looks of the man's robes.

"Afternoon," Renji offered cheerily. "Anything I can help you with?"

The man looked him up and down exactly once, and then sniffed through one well-bred nostril. "I am here to meet with Lord Kuchiki, it is none of your concern."

"Do you have an appointment?" Renji asked, wondering if he was going to be able to get back in the office this afternoon or not. He didn't recall anything on the captain's schedule, but the meeting with Ukitake hadn't been on there, either. 

The man made an affronted face. "What is it to you, you peon?"

Later, Renji would wonder what the hell had possessed him not to just let this walking pile of privilege stew in his own juices, but instead he regarded the man with half-lidded eyes and replied, "I'm Captain Kuchiki's adjutant, and if you haven't got an appointment, I'm the man you'll need to talk to about making one."

This was utter fabrication. Byakuya managed his own schedule, although he usually shared a copy so the Renji could work around it. But Renji was suddenly absolutely positive that this man did not have an appointment, and also that Byakuya was not going to have the slightest interest in talking to him.

"Maybe you don't know who I am! I'm Lord Noragashi, I hold a seat in the House of Middle Lords, and I'm here to discuss--"

"He's free next Thursday at 3," Renji interrupted. Byakuya was probably free a lot of times before next Thursday as well, but he just happened to remember that one, and it's not like he _actually_ had Byakuya's calendar memorized.

"Next Thursday!" Noragashi exploded. "Unacceptable! Look at you, you uncouth soldier-person! You don't even realize who you're insulting!"

Renji shrugged, unphased. "Captain Kuchiki's got a retainer at his home who is much better at remembering that kinda stuff. Maybe you'd be better off makin' an appointment with him."

Lord Noragashi's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and Renji knew he'd guessed correctly-- the man was trying to weasel in an appointment by bothering Byakuya at work, rather than going through the proper channels.

Suddenly, the office door swished open, and Ukitake stepped out. "--maybe next week," he finished saying to Byakuya, who stood in the doorway. "Ah, Lieutenant, you're back! Sorry to keep you out of the office, your captain owed me a game of shogi."

"I hope he didn't trounce you too badly," Renji replied.

Ukitake laughed warmly. "He did not because I trounced him first. Do you play?"

"Not very well," Renji admitted.

"Ah, you should get Rukia to teach you, she's very keen at it."

In the doorway, Byakuya made a perturbed face.

"Lord Kuchiki!" Lord Noragashi broke in.

Byakuya's eyes slid over to the man, and Renji watched as his features settled into a mask of complete emotionlessness. "Lord Noragashi."

Noragashi took a moment to shoot Renji a glare of superiority. 

So, he knows who you are, Renji mentally shrugged. He knows who everyone is. It doesn't mean he actually _cares._

"I knew you would have time to meet with me this afternoon! Your odious underling here claimed your were unavailable until late next week, and--"

Byakuya's cool gaze glided briefly to Renji and then back to Noragashi. "He keeps my schedule, he would know."

Noragashi sputtered wordlessly for a moment.

"Also, unless this is related to Gotei 13 business, please make your appointments through the Manor."

"See you, Byakuya!" Ukitake called. "See you, Renji!"

"Bye, sir!"

"Lieutenant," Byakuya snapped, gesturing back into the office.

"So, you _don't_ want the 3pm next Thursday, is that correct?" Renji asked the stunned Lord Noragashi innocently.

"Abarai!"

Byakuya ushered his adjutant back into the office, shot a death glare at Noragashi, and then shut the shoji behind him.

Renji pulled a few papers off the top of one of his stacks, and then settled himself behind his desk.

"What would you have done if he had actually been someone of importance?" Byakuya demanded. 

"I may not be noble, but I can tell the difference between people who are important and people who just think they are," Renji said simply.

Byakuya frowned thoughtfully as he watched Renji dig through one of his desk drawers. "Ah. Very well then. Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are now _actually_ in charge of my appointment schedule during work hours."

Renji promptly shut his hand in the drawer.

* * *

Having never actually lived on-base, Rukia was a little surprised to see how active the Sixth was early on a Friday evening. Some cousins she recognized with bags over their shoulder were probably headed home to family estates for the weekend. She passed a few groups of young shinigami freshly changed out of uniform and headed out to get started on their drinking. 

“Hello, Lady Rukia!” one of a trio of younger officers greeted her politely, only to have one of his companions elbow him in the ribs and whisper something in his ear before they continued on their way. She watched them go curiously-- two of the three were cousins that would usually be all too eager to try to grab her attention during this sort of run-in. Ah, well, no need to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Also, it would appear her disguise was not working very well. Rukia was wearing a padded hanten over her kimono, partly for the cold, but mostly in the hopes of it making her look a little larger. She had her hair tied up in a kerchief and was sporting a pair of large sunglasses, even though the sun was starting to go down.

She thought she heard her name mentioned in a small knot of men standing in the courtyard, and she glanced over.

“...don’t do it...not worth it…”

“...break your _face!_ He’ll do it!”

One man broke away and trotted up to her, a pleasant and utterly fake smile on his face.

“Lady Rukia, what a pleasant surprise to see you this evening!” 

Well, even if they weren’t providing a very good disguise, at least the sunglasses let her surreptitiously roll her eyes. “Good evening, Cousin Isao.”

Ohno Isao, Third Seat of the Sixth Division fell in step with her. “May I escort you to your destination, my Lady?”

“I know where I’m going,” she replied sweetly. 

Ohno gave her a serious look. “May I give you a word of advice, my Lady?”

Oh, this should be rich. “I know the kerchief isn’t very flattering, but my hair is terrible today.”

Ohno plowed on, not appearing to have heard her. “You are a very charming and interesting young woman, Lady Rukia. You know you could have any choice of companions, especially among the many fine young men and women of the Sixth.”

“Is that so?” Rukia asked.

“You’ve been the talk of the more elevated social circles since your recent adventures. Everyone wants to know more about you. If it would ease things to have an experienced guide to--”

“Are you asking me out, Cousin?” Rukia teased, tipping her sunglasses up onto her forehead. Many of her cousins enjoyed flirting with her, whether seriously or as a ploy, but Ohno was too self-important to ever take that tack. "I had no idea!"

“I am _offering_ to help you acquire a more appropriate social circle,” Ohno said, ignoring her buffoonery.

Rukia blinked innocently at him. “What’s wrong with my social circle?”

Ohno tipped his head very seriously. “Let me be frank, my Lady. Your association with Lieutenant Abarai is not doing you any favors.”

“Ahhh,” Rukia replied, putting her sunglasses back down. “I didn’t realize you were offering to spar with me. You’re right, he’s getting too good at dodging my ice attacks, I could really use some new victims.”

“That… isn’t what I meant, but if my Lady ever wanted some tips, I would be perfectly willing to--”

“Oh, I just remembered. Brother told me not to play at swords with anyone from Squad Six. He’s teaching me the Kuchiki form himself, and he said he didn’t want me picking up any bad habits.”

Ohno froze in his steps. “He’s teaching you personally?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Rukia agreed, continuing doggedly onwards.

Ohno caught up with her at the corner of the First Barracks, where Renji’s quarters were located. “Lady Rukia, please, if you could just listen for a--”

Rukia skidded to a halt and wheeled on him. “You listen, Ohno. Maybe Lieutenant Abarai isn’t going to get me invited to any exclusive parties, but he’s saved my life about a gazillion times, he’s the best sparring partner in Gotei 13, _and_ he’s the only non-gross person who can even come close to out-drinking me, so unless you’re ready to up your game, you can bug off, you got it?”

Ohno swallowed nervously. “I certainly didn’t mean--”

“A- _hem._ ”

Both their heads swung over to where Renji was leaning against his own doorway. He was dressed in a casual kimono with the sleeves tied back, showing off an awful lot of muscles and tattoos. He was also wearing an apron, which should have ruined the effect, but somehow did the opposite. “Nice glasses, Rukia.”

“Thanks,” Rukia replied cheerfully.

“Ah, ah, good evening, sir,” Ohno stammered.

“Ohno, can you _read_?” Renji asked.

“Er, yes, sir, I--”

“Because I wrote a _very specific_ memorandum yesterday that I feel you did not read.”

“I was just escorting Lady Rukia to--”

Renji had started cracking his knuckles one at a time.

“I was just going!”

Rukia and Renji watched him scamper off, and then looked at each other.

“Did you _threaten your squad_ about bothering me?” Rukia asked, clearly amused.

“It was a memo, how threatening could it be?” Renji shrugged. “Were you just tellin’ Ohno what a catch I am?”

“That was before I saw you in _this_ ,” Rukia replied, swatting his apron with the back of her hand. “ _What_ are we doing?”

Renji stepped back and gestured toward the doorway. “C’mon in, I need your help.”

“Me?”

“So,” Renji explained as she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. “For… _whatever reason_ , I think I may have learned to cook on our trip.”

“Cook? Cook food? Like, to eat?”

“Yes, Rukia," he sighed.

“Um, okay. But you’ve forgotten again, right?”

“Yes and no. Akon says I probably did it so much that the memory wipe made me forget I could do it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still do it.”

“I’m confused.”

“I am also confused and that’s why we’re doing this. I… think I can do it as long as I don’t think about what I’m doing. So I need you to distract me.”

Rukia looked at him with panic in her eyes. “You want me to… distract you… while using sharp knives and flames and stuff?”

“For starters, I had Rikichi come over earlier and distract me through all the chopping, so I’m done with the knives part.”

“How did it go?”

“It went… okay. He told me this really long rambling story about going to a poetry reading? With Hanatarou? It was very distracting, that was for damn sure. We made it through, but I decided to wait for you for the actual cooking part.”

Rukia frowned. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the easiest person in the world to listen to and also, um.” He sucked his teeth for a moment. “I dunno. You were there with me. When we’re together, I just feel… right, I guess. Like I’m right on the edge of remembering. I thought it might be easier if you were here.”

“Oh,” Rukia said, her voice small. 

He clapped her on the shoulder. “C’mon. You made me try to kill you once, you can do this for me.”

“That was for getting my powers back!”

“And this is for getting my powers back! My cooking powers.”

Rukia rolled her eyes and followed him to his kitchen. She felt like they had forgotten something already, that they had missed some part of the ritual. Her shoes were off, she’d already made fun of him, what was missing?

“I’m home!” she shouted.

“Dinner’ll be in about ten!” Renji hollered back, even though they were only two feet apart. He froze, and looked behind him. “What the fuck was that?”

Rukia shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt like I had forgotten to say something. So I said it. This is not my home. I have a home and this is very much not it.”

“I know that,” Renji agreed a little too quickly. “Did it… did it help?”

“A little. I’m still missing a part. I don’t know what. Do you feel like we’re missing a part?”

Renji considered. “I feel like I’m supposed to be cooking now.”

“Okay, well go, then.”

She lingered in the kitchen doorway while he picked up a spatula and stood in front of the stove. “What are you gonna do with that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Just… being prepared.”

She squirmed. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“How was your day?”

Something about those words struck some buried proto-memory that thrummed through her head like a guitar chord.

“Wasn’t too bad,” she started slowly. “Kiyone left me with a pile of her paperwork and told me it was for educational purposes, but it was really for getting-out-of-doing-it-herself-purposes. I was really stuck on it until a guy I know stopped by and helped me out, but you already know all this because it was you.”

“That was mid-afternoon,” Renji corrected her, putting down his spatula and pulling a bottle of sesame oil out of a cupboard. “What happened this morning? Start at the beginning. And try to relax, okay? You’re just trying to distract my thinky brain so that the useful part of my brain can do its thing.” Rukia watched as he fired up one of the burners.

“The ‘useful’ part of your brain?”

“Yeah, it’s the same part that knows how to fight and also pick locks and play futsal and all that other stuff. So. How. Was. Your. Day?”

Rukia sighed, and started back at the beginning. She was halfway through explaining the morning drills, when Renji exclaimed,

“This is not enough garlic.” He whipped out a knife, and promptly reduced a large hunk of garlic into mince.

Rukia stared at him. She realized that she didn’t want to tell him the story about that jerk Seventh Seat. Renji had said she should relax. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if she changed the subject to one that wouldn’t get her worked up and embarrassed. “Can I tell you about an idea I had?” she asked.

“Go for it,” Renji encouraged, dumping the garlic into his wok.

“It’s a machine, halfway between a spirit phone and those big computational engines Squad 12 has. Like the little computers they have in the World of the Living.”

“Yeah, I know which ones you mean.”

“Right. But it’s for paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

“A paperwork machine. Instead of writing things down, you would type it into the machine, and then it would remember it. So if you entered in all your expense reports, the machine could add up all the numbers and make the monthly expense report for you. And more importantly, when you make a mistake, you don't have to rewrite the whole thing, you just fix the error and print it out again. Maybe you don't even need to print it. Maybe you can just send it to someone else's paperwork machine.”

“How would it work?” Renji asked, dumping more things into the wok and doing some sort of coordinated maneuver that looked like swishing and stirring at the same time.

Keep talking, keep talking, don’t make him nervous, Rukia reminded herself. “That’s Squad 12’s problem. I’m just the ideas girl, see?” She continued to describe her concept, which had sort of popped into her head fully formed while trying to get through Kiyone’s paperwork. Renji listened politely, asking questions now and again, while the food in the pan started to give off a delicious aroma. She could tell that he liked the idea in principle, but was somewhat skeptical of its feasibility. This ought to have been the weirdest thing they had ever done, but everything about it just felt comfortable. Normal.

Renji squinted at his wok. “Does it look like food to you? Looks like food to me. You feeling brave?”

“Renji, it smells incredible! If you don’t let me have some and quickly, I’m going to murder you. And then eat it while I stand over your broken body.”

He chuckled, and pulled two bowls out of a cabinet. “Look, I bought bowls, too!”

Rukia regarded his stoneware. "Are those camellias painted on 'em?"

"Eh, they're just some flowers. I thought they were pretty," Renji said, squinting at the designs around the outside. "Maybe they are camellias."

"Dork," Rukia accused, good-naturedly.

Renji heaped some stir fry into the bowls and handed one to her, along with a set of chopsticks. “I still don’t own a table, so we have to stand around, or we can sit on the couch.” He contemplated the bowl in his hands for a moment. "Shit, I knew I forgot something. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Renji dashed out of the kitchen, yanked on his sandals, and departed.

Rukia was left holding a steaming bowl of food that looked and smelled as good as what she would get at home, if not quite as fancy, and wondering what had just happened. Even though he had told her to wait, she popped a bite in her mouth. If it was terrible, she could get her blecchs out of the way without hurting his feelings.

It was not terrible.

It was amazing.

Nothing was ever served at Kuchiki Manor that _wasn't_ amazing, but this was amazing in a different way. As food, it was _fine_ , if a tad tame by her preferences. But it was _familiar_. It felt like a favorite recipe, even though she couldn't recall ever having had exactly this dish before. It tasted like _home_ , except that Kuchiki Manor had never felt like home, and neither had any other place Rukia had lived, not really.

The door slammed, and Renji dashed back in, his nose a little red. "Getting pretty cold out there," he commented. "Here you go!" he announced cheerfully, handing Rukia a small bottle with the label peeled off. “I forgot to get hot sauce, so you have to borrow your brother’s.”

Rukia sniffed it. “This isn’t what he uses at home.”

“No, because I won’t tell him where I get it. It’s his favorite, though.”

Rukia was fascinated with the idea of this strange little interplay between two of her favorite men. “Where _do_ you get it?”

Renji shrugged, heading past her, back into the kitchen. “I steal it from the mess.” He returned with his own bowl, and flopped down on the couch with it. “No need to stand on ceremony.”

Rukia hopped up on the couch next to him. She dumped some hot sauce on top and took another bite. "What the _fuck_ , Renji?”

"You don't like it?" he asked, mouth half full. "Tastes pretty good to me."

"It's _perfect_ , you friggin' dumbass. It's making me nostalgic for some picturesque childhood we never had. Forget what I said earlier, I live here now, and you're cooking this for me every day."

A strange, pleased smile drifted onto his face. "Glad you like it. And you're welcome anytime." 

Rukia looked away, suddenly self-conscious, and shoveled a huge bite of food into her mouth. "Thanks for having me over," she mumbled. "I'm sure you had better things to do."

“I was gonna make up some duty rosters,” he admitted half-heartedly. “Hot, hot Friday night vice-captaining action.”

"Is there a lot of that?" Rukia asked. "Boring, tedious stuff? Working on weekends?"

Renji shrugged. "Depends. I'm still catching back up, y'know, plus your brother is who he is and I am who I am. Matsumoto doesn't spend her Friday nights making duty rosters, that's for damn sure."

"You like it though, right? Vice-captaining?"

"Hmm?” Renji considered his job, the last few days of which had been exhausting and slightly overwhelming. “Well...I mean, it has its ups and downs. To be honest, I'm coming up on a year at it, and it hasn't gone _at all_ the way I expected."

Rukia’s brow creased. "Do you regret it? Taking the job?"

Renji blinked. "What? No way! No, it's hard and it's frustrating and every time I start to get things under control, I get sent on a mission and get set back another month. I never feel like I'm doing as good a job as I should be. Half my guys won't listen to me unless I threaten them. Every day I find some new way of convincing your brother I'm an absolute dipshit. But I _want_ to be good at it. I _know_ I can be good at it. I just gotta keep at it, I'll get my shit together eventually."

Rukia looked at him in vague horror. That was _not_ the answer she had been expecting. He was supposed to tell her how much he loved it and how worthwhile it all was. And furthermore, he was the hardest working person she knew, aside from possibly Brother. How could he think of himself as incompetent? How was _she_ ever going to pull this off?

Renji looked over at her and his eyes widened in realization. "You weren't askin' about me, you were askin' about you. Oh, Ru, you'll be a great vice-captain. Your captain is super nice and your people aren't assholes--"

" _Some_ of them aren't," Rukia grumbled.

"I mean, it's kind of a shitshow over there sometimes, but that'll just make you look good when you come in and clean everything up."

"It's not a _shitshow_ ," Rukia snapped. "To anyone with _normal_ standards. Kiyone and Sentarou do their best. Who's to say I can do any better?"

"That's not what I--"

"And since when have you started calling me 'Ru' again?"

Renji froze, his mouth hanging open. He'd started calling her that in their last year in Inuzuri, into their Academy days. In general, he only used the nickname when they were alone. To his guarded, paranoid, terrified younger self, it was the closest he could get to telling her that he loved her, and in his mind, the fact that she answered to it was her way of saying 'I know and I don't mind.' And he _certainly_ didn’t remember when he had consciously started using it again. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "It slipped out."

She shrugged irritably. "I was just surprised. It was very nostalgic." She took in the gobsmacked look on his face, and her mood softened. "Look, you can keep calling me that, if you want. I don't mind. Just don't do it around other people, I don't want anyone else picking it up."

"Okay," he agreed, very quietly. Then he cleared his throat. "Anyway, you know I wasn't trying to criticize your squad. What is all this about? You gettin' cold feet?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Rukia admitted. "I thought it would be a lot of shouting and heroics. I'm good at shouting and heroics. But it's also a lot of knowing things and being organized and getting people to listen to you. It just sounds like a big hassle."

"Now, all those things may be true," Renji admitted, "but it's a good job and an important one. I bet you won't find one vice-captain in the Gotei who'd say it wasn't worth it. Where'd you get such a dumb idea?"

Rukia screwed up her face. "Brother," she mumbled.

"Your _brother_? _My captain_? Told you vice-captaining was a hassle?"

"He thinks there are better things I could do with my talents," Rukia sighed. "He just asked me to consider things carefully. Think about if this is really what I want to do with my life. It's a pretty big change, going from unseated to captain-track, and I haven't really ever given much consideration to things outside of the Gotei. I mean, I want to be a vice-captain, Renji, I do. But Byakuya has never cared about anything I did before, and if there's something I could do that would…" Rukia trailed off when she realized that Renji's face had gone stiff, etched with cold, hard rage. She was aware that his feelings toward her brother were complicated, that there was a period of his life when Renji couldn't utter the name Kuchiki Byakuya without appending at least two expletives. But she'd never _seen_ it. He was so careful. The harshest criticism she'd ever heard him level against the man was 'you know how he is.' 

She hadn't seen him so mad since Orihime's kidnapping. 

"You know what your talents are?" he said, his voice low and measured. She gaped at him, unable to answer. "Kidou. Shunpo. Your ice attacks. Your fearlessness. Your relentlessness. Your absolute, ride-or-die _dedication_. If he thinks being a lieutenant is a waste of your frankly amazing talents, that asshole _should quit the fuckin' Gotei himself."_

"Renji," Rukia gasped.

"Fuck that guy," Renji muttered.

"Renji! Maybe he just...wants what's best for me."

"What's best for you is doing crazy stupid shit and barely comin' out in one piece and tellin' everyone at the bar about it the next day. He's just being overprotective, 'cause he can't stand the idea of you gettin' hurt."

"Well, do you blame him?" Rukia sniffed. "After losing my sister?"

"I damn well do!" Renji exclaimed. "He's hardly the first person in history to lose someone he loved. Me an' Ichigo an' all the rest of us gotta deal with the heart palpitations that come along with lettin' you be you, and he can, too. You're more than worth it."

Rukia rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I think you're overreacting. He just asked me to _think_ about it. Did you even think about it, when you decided to go for it? Or was it just one more exam for you to pass and show everyone how great you are?"

She shouldn't have said that, she realized, watching something break behind his eyes. "My motivations have nothing to do with this," he bit off. "As for the rest, I hope you're right. And I hope you think it over, and tell him you got no interest in growin' orchids or whatever bullshit he wants you to do, and you're real excited about bein' a vice-captain, and that he's nothin' but happy for you."

"Maybe we should talk about something else," Rukia suggested.

"If that's what you want." Renji stood up and plucked her empty bowl out of her lap. "You done with this?" he asked. The anger had gone out of his voice, and now he just sounded exhausted.

"Is there more?" she asked plaintively.

Renji snorted, but he smiled gently. "Yeah, plenty."

Rukia squeezed her eyes shut. _That_ hadn't gone well at all. They used to fight like that all the time, back in the old days, over anything and everything, but now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time it had happened. She didn't care for it. She didn't care for it _at all_.

"Here you go," Renji said softly, returning with her seconds. Then a little louder, "Hey, you wanna hear something dumb?" _I'm sorry I lost my temper._

"Yeah!" she replied brightly. _Forget about it._

"I can't do rice. I don't know how." 

“That’s so weird,” Rukia commented.

“I know. I’ve tried a couple of times, and I get that feeling you described a few minutes ago, that something’s missing.”

“Well, you should learn.” She pondered for a moment. “Surely, one of your million friends knows how to cook. You know that might be a good idea generally-- to talk to someone who knows what they’re doing, instead of just depending on your weird instincts.”

Renji nodded slowly. “This is why I keep you around, you know. For your sensible ideas.” He tipped his head back thoughtfully for a minute. “Shuuhei’s a pretty good cook. He probably wouldn’t be too weird about it if I asked him.”

Rukia gave him a sidelong glance. “Why would he be weird about it at all?”

“Just...I dunno. It’s kind of a long story.”

Rukia could tell a brush-off when she heard one. “I wonder why. You can’t do rice, that is.” 

He cocked his head to one side. "Oh. I think we must've been in the World of the Living."

Rukia almost choked. "What?"

"Well, remember I said I felt like something was missing? I think what’s missing is a rice cooker. Do other planes of existence have rice cookers? Why don't we have them in Soul Society anyway? They can't possibly be harder to make, than say, an artificial soul."

"We were 100% in the World of the Living," Rukia chuckled. "Sode no Shirayuki let it slip, and then Akon basically confirmed it. I should have told you, but I forgot."

Renji’s nose wrinkled. "I knew it! Wait, Sode no Shirayuki remembers? Zabimaru...sort of does, but whatever brain cell they share never cares about anything important. They just gave me a bunch of nonsense about fighting the nothingness and how many of them there may or may not have been."

Rukia raised one eyebrow. "Well, I think Sode no Shirayuki knows what's up, but she won't tell, and she is the stubbornest being I have ever met, and that's counting Ichigo _and_ my brother." She stuck out her lower lip. "How's your inner world?"

Renji frowned. "Seemed fine. Yours?"

"It doesn’t seem too bad, but Sode no Shirayuki said that it got damaged from me being in the Living World too long, but that she would be able to fix it."

"Damaged? Damaged, how?"

"The lower waterfall is starting to thaw. But it doesn't seem to be affecting anything, the water level in the lake was fine and everything was still nice and cold."

A cold streak, like snowmelt, dripped down Renji's spine. "This happened before, though, right? When you lost your powers?"

Rukia frowned. "Sort of. It got warm then, warmish anyway, but nothing melted. And as soon as Sode no Shirayuki returned, it was cold again. This feels different. I can't explain it."

Renji felt like he should say something about the cold water in his own inner river, but he couldn't bring himself to. It was a coincidence. People's inner worlds didn't connect, that was nonsense. Maybe they were just...in synch somehow. "You came over here to talk about the reiatsu thing," he sputtered.

"Oh, right! Yes, _what the hell_?"

Renji shrugged. "I already told you everything Akon told me. He said it was a _definite convergence_. And that trying to explain it would be nothing better than wild speculation."

"Well, I want to wildly speculate!"

"You don't think it's just from being in close contact for three months away from anyone else with any kinda decent reiatsu?"

Rukia's mouth fell open. "I was gonna guess maybe we had to learn a bunch of new powers to defeat some badass monster."

"Yours is certainly more fun," Renji agreed.

Rukia frowned at him. "What did you mean, being in close contact and not seeing any other souls? I'm sure there were other people from Squad 2 with us. They wouldn't have just sent us off somewhere by ourselves."

Renji shrugged. "Look. It's obvious that we lived together. We lived together and I did all the cooking, for whatever that's worth. They said it was an undercover mission, so we were probably pretending to be humans, which makes sense, 'cause you and me have some experience at that."

"Ok," Rukia agreed.

"And maybe the rest is just a hunch, but when you're not here, I feel weird and lonely, and when you are here, I feel all right. I don't feel like there's anyone else missing. So maybe Squad 2 was there, but doing something else, maybe living somewhere else, I dunno. Just some wild speculation."

"Or maybe we feel weird and lonely without each other because we got our reiatsu tangled up, and we're literally missing parts of ourselves."

"That's some even wilder speculation. You're good at this game."

Rukia chewed her lip. "Do you remember, back at the Academy, that exercise they gave us to do, when we were first learning to feel other people's spiritual pressure? You were bad at it and we used to practice a lot?"

Renji sucked his teeth. "Yeah, I remember it." 

"You want to?" Rukia looked around for someplace to put her bowl, and finally set it on the floor. "You need a coffee table," she informed him. "A regular table too, for that matter."

"I know," he sighed, as she turned sideways to face him, crossing her legs under her. "Rukia, what do you hope to accomplish with this?"

"I dunno. You don't feel different to me. I don't feel different to me either. I thought it would be a way to take a closer look."

Renji sighed and resituated himself, hauling his long legs up onto the couch so that he, too, sat cross-legged, facing Rukia. "We used to do this flexing as much reiatsu as we could, didn't we?"

"Mmm," Rukia agreed.

"We should probably not do that, in the interest of not blowing out each other's spiritual eardrums."

Rukia smirked at him. He loved that smirk.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Renji wished she had suggested this _before_ they had gotten into that stupid fight over Byakuya's overprotective tendencies. He didn't know what the hell had happened on that trip, but at times, he felt so damn close to her, like they were kids pulling grifts and living for each other in Inuzuri again. No, not like that, either, because they no longer had that constant fear of living on a knife's edge. They just felt comfortable, people who ate together and sat together and talked about their day. Like he could just casually throw his arm around her shoulders and say, "Hey, I've been meaning to tell you this, but I've been in love with you for basically forever," and she would say, "No kiddin'?" and tip her face up for a kiss.

Except that she wouldn’t.

Probably.

Maybe.

He honestly didn’t know how she would react. 

It occurred to Renji, with a feeling much like plunging headlong into a pit, that at some point, at some point _in the finite future_ , he was going to have to tell Rukia how he felt about her. He’d wanted to tell her for a long time, of course he had. Back at the Academy, he’d just been waiting until he had a position in the Gotei, a steady paycheck, something to offer her. He had all those things now, of course, except maybe the last, because who had _anything_ to offer the First Daughter of the Kuchiki? He’d been putting it off when the threat of Aizen still hung over everything, but even that was past.

He wasn’t ready.

Rukia was in the middle of a huge career milestone and he was, once again, trying to get his feet under him at Squad Six, and above all else, there was Byakuya, just Byakuya-ing up everything. 

They wouldn't have even had that dumb fight if Rukia knew that her brother was the reason her career progress had been stalled for so long, but instead, it was one of an increasing number of awkward, festering secrets that he was always keeping from her. Secrets that wouldn't matter that much between casual friends, but they weren't just casual friends anymore, casual friends didn't have _synched up reiatsu signatures_.

A tiny voice in Renji’s head pointed out that, maybe, back in the Academy days, if he hadn’t insisted on getting everything arranged perfectly, he wouldn’t have lost her for forty years.

“Renji?”

Renji blinked and shook his head. 

Rukia was staring at him, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay? You spaced out.”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered. “Rukia, I gotta tell you something.”

She cocked her head to one side. “What is it?”

"I was never bad at this,” he admitted, a little too quickly. “I lied about it because I liked doing it with you."

Rukia snorted. "You dumbass. Like I ever believed it when you, who knew where every single person on campus was at all times, needed help with some reiatsu-sensing exercise. You shit-ass liar."

Renji laughed nervously, not entirely sure if he felt relieved or not. "Then why'd you keep doing it with me then?"

Rukia shrugged defensively. "I guess I liked doing it with you, too. We never got to be together anymore, once we were in school. It was nice, having one dumb thing we could do to be close to each other without looking like Inuzuri dirtbags who didn't understand prissy Seireitei social norms."

Renji swallowed. He sometimes forgot how lonely those early school days had been, dwarfed by the long, lonelier years to come.

"It was weird, actually, that we liked this, now that I think about it," Rukia went on, "because it felt terrible with anyone else, and everyone else seemed to hate it."

Renji nodded. "You were probably gone by then, but this was the first step toward developing killing intent." Renji was thoughtful for a moment. "I just remembered one more thing that Akon said. It’s possible that maybe our reiatsu used to be similar and that maybe we're just reverting, now that we're back together again."

"Ugh, you were talking about our relationship with Akon? Gross." Her eyes twinkled.

“Eh, shut up, you. Let’s just do this.” He held his hands up and slightly in front of him and glanced at Rukia’s hands expectantly. She pressed her palms against his own, lining up their fingers. He gently curled the top joint of his fingers over the tops of hers and closed his eyes.

Renji didn’t try to power up, he just gently flexed his saketsu to tighten his ambient reiryoku into reiatsu. It pushed up against Rukia’s, sending echoes of her aura back through his own. 

You needed reiatsu to sense reiatsu, that's how this worked. Reiatsu fields didn't have sharp edges, they were strong close to your body and then they tapered off, getting weaker and weaker until they trailed off into nothingness. The better you were at using this long, rarefied tail, the better you could sense other people without them sensing you back. If you got too close, if your strong parts started overlapping, it became a contest of wills, a shoving match. With practice, you could learn to fight with a partner, learn to stand the angry buzz of another person shoved up against you, as long as you had a common enemy in your sights. Sometimes, it was even exhilarating, getting riled up with an ally, like doing a cheer before a futsal match.

It wasn't like that with Rukia, not exactly. When he felt her fighting spirits blaze up, true, it was hard not to bust through a wall in order to get to whomever she was fighting. But when it was just him and her, at least in the old days, her reiatsu would just wash over him, mixing seamlessly with his own, submerging him with an overwhelming sense of Rukia-ness.

But that wasn’t what happened now. 

Their reiatsu curled together, not overlapping harmlessly, but _interacting_. _Adding_. Renji felt something in his saketsu jar into place. Zabimaru cracked open one (or maybe two) eyes, curious as to what was going on out here. Renji opened one eye, himself, wondering how this felt to Rukia. Her face was twisted uncomfortably, like she was struggling with something. Their shared reiatsu was building higher and higher. 

“Ru? You okay?”

Suddenly, Rukia’s nose wrinkled, and a flare of power burst between them, throwing their hands apart. 

Zabimaru snarled, an angry, fanged blaze of reiatsu.

Renji flexed his hands, which had gone ice cold, and rubbed them together. “Cut it out, you jerk,” he grumbled.

“What?” Rukia frowned, shaking out her own hands.

“Oh, sorry, that was at Zabimaru. What the hell just happened?”

“I think Sode no Shirayuki didn’t like it either,” Rukia admitted bitterly.

“Your hands okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised mostly. You?”

“Just cold.”

To his surprise, she reached out and wrapped her hands around his. Oddly enough, hers were warm.

“Something weird was happening before that.”

“Yeah,” Rukia agreed, glumly. “Sounds like we’re both due for another trip to the ol’ inner world to get absolutely no answers from our dumb zanpakutou spirits.”

Renji looked down as Rukia rubbed her hands against the outside of his own. “Or we could not.” He looked back up to Rukia’s face. She was just staring at him. “Maybe we’re taking this too fast.”

Rukia’s hands stopped. “Taking what too fast?” she yelped. “There’s nothing. Nothing that we’re taking fast. What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She quickly put his hands back in his lap, gave them a firm little pat, then untucked her legs and retrieved her bowl from the floor. Renji watched as she stuffed her mouth full of food, the most classic of Rukia defense mechanisms. 

“We were gone for three months, even if it doesn’t feel like it,” Renji pointed out, looking back at his hands again. “It seems like maybe you’re right, maybe we learned to do something together, reiatsu-wise. I don’t think it’s like cooking though. I don’t think it’s gonna come back just from jumping in feet first. Also, you know I have a real bad habit of blowing myself up.”

“Since when do you not want to rush into something, powers-wise?” Rukia teased, although it came out with a bit of an edge.

“Since your brother busted my bankai the first time I used it,” Renji pointed out.

“Oh,” Rukia said softly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know he did that.”

Renji shrugged defensively. “Zabimaru’s resilient. We get by without that joint. But for once, there’s no Arrancar out there, no Aizen. Neither one of us is in jail, or getting executed, or getting banished. Maybe we could just take our time and figure this out the right way. Not to mention that you got a bunch of other shit you’re supposed to be training for and I’ve got a work backlog the size of a Menos.”

Rukia regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “Yoruichi said she owes us some training. I wonder if she would have any ideas.”

“That’s a _great_ idea,” Renji agreed, turning parallel to her, and stretching out his legs again. “I _should_ get a coffee table. So I have something to put my feet on.” He watched Rukia stuff food in her face for a moment. “Maybe we’ve been taking some other stuff too fast, too.”

Rukia’s shoulders hunched.

“Hey, hey, hey! Relax! I’m not rescinding your open dinner invitation.” Renji leaned his head back on his hands. “You and me, Ru, we’ve always been real good when it’s us against the world. But like I said, that’s not the way it is anymore. We can finally get back to those lives we had before all this, except that now we gotta figure out how I can fit into yours and you can fit into mine.” 

Rukia poked at the last few bits of food left in her bowl. “You think we need to catch up on all that time we were apart?” she asked slowly.

He shook his head. “You’ve never been real keen on rehashing what’s past. And to be honest, I had some pretty awkward years in there that I’m just as happy for you to know absolutely nothing about." He cocked his head and smiled at her. "Maybe we can just move forward, instead. I kinda like the idea of getting to know the person you've become."

Rukia scowled. "You know her pretty well, I think."

Renji narrowed his eyes. "I know Rukia-who-saves-the-world, Rukia-who's-ride-or-die-for-her-friends. I barely know Lady Rukia at all. Rukia-the-sister-who’s-managed-to-charm-my-weird-grumpy boss. And I'm really looking forward to meeting my new colleague, Vice-Captain Rukia."

Rukia clenched her jaw, trying not to remember all the times she had thought of him as "Vice-Captain Renji" when he was in his super-serious working mode. But then she remembered how deftly he had helped her through her paperwork problem that afternoon. Maybe Vice-Captain Renji wasn't just a bossy stick-in-the-mud. Maybe Vice-Captain Renji was going to be an asset and a friend in an entirely new way. "Lady Rukia's a drag," she excused.

"Most of Squad Six seems to think she's pretty interesting," Renji teased. "Y’know, I think it's kinda cool that you have this whole other side that goes to the symphony and plays shogi and owns kimonos with 75 layers."

Rukia felt her cheeks burning. "You do not care about that crap."

Renji shrugged. "I don't know that I _care_ about it, but it's interesting. It's something you know about and I don't and that's neat."

Rukia crossed her arms and hmmphed. "Well, in that case, I am very _interested_ in hearing more about your Squad 11 days when you escort me to The Brawl tomorrow."

Renji wagged his eyebrows. "Just remember, lady, you asked for it."

~ end part 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The significance of orchids, revealed at last. Rukia and Renji take in a Brawl. Saturday night in the Seireitei, on both sides of the class divide. The Kuchiki siblings take tea with their aunt.

* * *

* * *

Byakuya was wearing his "work clothes", which probably meant they were only made out of good silk instead of _exquisite_ silk. It was a little hard to tell, because Byakuya's aesthetic tended toward simple things of the absolute highest quality. Also, he could probably wear a potato sack and make it look good.

Rukia herself had shown up in a terminally grass-stained cotton yukata, the victim of an impromptu football match last summer that had broken out after Ichigo found out Renji knew how to play.

"Why would you even retain such a thing?" Byakuya asked, horrified. "You may have as many new garments as you need."

"It's still perfectly serviceable," Rukia frowned. "Just greenish. Aren't we just going to get dirty anyway?"

Byakuya gave that special sigh he reserved just for her. "We shall endeavor not to. You seem to have a special talent for it." His hand was on the door to the greenhouse, but he seemed reluctant to go in. "What is your disposition this morning, Rukia? It is important that you enter with only peace in your heart. These orchids have been repotted recently, and they require a gentle recovery.”

She had been so excited when he asked her to spend time with him that morning, but then it had turned out to be _orchids_. Damn Renji and his stupid prescience. Or maybe Byakuya was just really predictable. In any case, perhaps she had been unfair to his orchids in the past. Perhaps orchids were secretly fascinating. She was determined to give it a fair shake.

"So full of peace, you wouldn't believe it," she assured him cheerfully.

He looked very much like he did not, in fact, believe it, but he led her inside anyway. 

It was over-warm and humid inside, and Rukia immediately broke into a sweat despite her light clothing, but Byakuya seemed unbothered. He made a beeline for a specific plant and wordlessly began to examine it. Gently extracting it from its pot, he brushed its roots free of dirt. Rukia looked around at the little plants in their pots of bark mulch.

"Aren't orchids supposed to have flowers?" she asked.

Byakuya looked up, startled. He had been deeply focused on his plant, she realized. "In time. The orchid show is not for several months. These," he gestured to one bench, "may be ready by then. As well as many of the ones in the main greenhouse."

"Is there something I can do, Brother?"

"Patience, Sister." 

After an interminable length of time, he finished examining his plant. "Three," he decided. "We will take three cuttings."

He pulled out three little perforated pots and various bags of mulches and soils. Rukia found it very amusing that her obscenely rich brother paid actual money for _special_ dirt, but she kept her face carefully neutral as he demonstrated how to properly fill a pot.

"You do the next one," he instructed.

Rukia glanced up from time to time, checking his face.

"You would do well to pay attention to your work, rather than my appraisal of it," he informed her. "That was adequate. Please fill the third."

Rukia clenched her back teeth and repeated the process.

"Better."

Then, he pulled out a small knife, which he wiped down with alcohol, and began carefully slicing pieces off the plant he had pulled from its pot.

"What are you doing?" Rukia pestered.

He handed her one. "These are pseudobulbs. We will place one, gently, into each of the pots we have prepared." He made an indentation in the dirt of one pot with two fingers, tucked the pseudobulb down in, and then covered it with a fond look on his face.

"Why?" Rukia asked.

Byakuya stared at her. "This is one way to get more orchids."

Rukia stared at him. "They don't grow from seeds?"

"It is very difficult. I do grow some from seed, in hopes of something interesting. It is generally a touchy and thankless enterprise, but it is the only way to create a unique varietal."

And too delicate a task for a clumsy oaf of a sister.

"Seems like a lot of trouble for some flowers," she commented.

"That's what makes it worthwhile," Byakuya replied. He looked up and studied his sister's face. "You find this to be foolishness."

Rukia waved her hands frantically. "Oh, no, no, no! No. It's just…"

How could she tell him of all the times they'd tried to make things grow, out in Rukongai? Not prissy, delicate flowers, but food to fill their pinched stomachs.

Fujimaru was usually the one who would get ahold of some seeds and bring them home, starry-eyed with hope. Every stupid time, Rukia and Kosaburou and Mameji would get sucked in to the fantasy of fresh vegetables growing right outside their door. Renji would grumble and lecture and naysay endlessly, but once the seeds were planted, who was always the one out there in the garden, plucking weeds, shooing pests, giving up his own water allotment?

Usually, if they came up at all, the plants were stunted and weak. But one time, a huge, curling vine came forth, exploding with orange, trumpetlike flowers. The flowers fell off after a few days, to reveal tiny melons that swelled after each rain. Alas, when they could wait no longer, and finally broke one open, it was foul inside, slimy and rank-smelling. Everyone was so upset until Rukia herself had the idea of taking melons out to the overlook and hurling them down the side with the good view of the far-off Seireitei. They had exploded delightfully as they bounced down the sheer drop-off.

Byakuya just didn't seem like a man who could appreciate the joys of chucking a rotten melon off a cliff.

"It's hard to grow anything out at the edges of Rukongai," she finally said, her voice slow and measured. "The soil is poor and the rain is unpredictable. Inuzuri isn't that far from the Wilds, though, and seeds would sometimes come in, on the wind I guess, or animals. I always really respected those weird, twisty flowers. They would be covered in big thorns and burning sap, but they could grow anywhere. They didn't need coddling in a greenhouse."

One of Byakuya's eyebrows rose and there was just a hint of a smile on his lips. "Didn't you know, Rukia, that the great-grandmother of this very plant came from the Wilds?"

Rukia gawped at him. The Wilds were a region of untamed forest that demarcated the edge of Rukongai to the south. It was not a natural wilderness, but twisted by wild magic, full of aggressive, monstrous animals and virulent plantlife. If anything lay beyond the Wilds, no one had ever come back to tell of it.

"Things from the Wilds don't breed true," was all she could think to say.

"The orchids of the Wilds can be crossbred with the more common domestic varieties," Byakuya explained, clearly pleased, for some reason. "It is exceedingly difficult, but in a few more generations, I will have created something entirely new."

"How...how did you get a flower from the Wilds?" Rukia asked, clearly still hung up on the nightmare land of her youth, the place the made Inuzuri seem like a nursery school in comparison. "No one goes in there."

Byakuya made a thoughtful face. "Some do. The specimens sell for a small fortune. It was my understanding that for a bold and enterprising soul, it was a way to elevate one's status. There are many valuable things to be found in the Wilds."

"No," Rukia shook her head, horrified. "Desperate and suicidal, maybe, not bold. If the animals there don't tear you to shreds, the air, the water is slow poison. It kills, not right away, but ruins your health, gives a slow, painful death. Only an utter fool or a madman would go into the Wilds, even for all the money in the Seireitei."

Byakuya certainly appreciated the irony of trying to interest Rukia in orchids. It was the very hobby his own grandfather had suggested in the hopes of diverting some of the excess energy that was constantly landing his young, hotheaded self in trouble. Byakuya had definitely thought orchids were boring and stupid at first, until he had learned that the most valuable specimens came from one of the most dangerous regions of Soul Society, at which point he immediately decided to go find one himself.

It was possibly the most monumentally stupid thing he had done in an era of monumentally poor decision-making. It was by sheer providence that he thought to hire a guide, and had happened upon an experienced orchid hunter of singular resourcefulness and capability, a woman determined to bootstrap her way from abject poverty to the very highest echelons of Soul Society. His grandfather had been extremely relieved and then extremely dismayed when Byakuya returned a few weeks later, bearing a brilliant, undomesticated, thorny beauty, and also some orchids.

Byakuya thought about trying to tell this to Rukia, but he wasn't sure how. He would have to explain his youthful volatility, the difficult familial position he was in at the time, and his complicated relationship with his grandfather, a man who terrified her. She might fret over his future health, even though he had been outfitted with the highest quality respirator and water purifier. Further, she didn't seem to have much empathy for one who would seek their fortune at the ends of the earth, and he knew he lacked the storytelling ability to convey what a determined and courageous woman Hisana had been, even to the end.

So, instead, he said, "It is ironic that, despite thriving in those dreadful conditions, the orchids of the Wilds do poorly in controlled conditions. I no longer own any pure specimens, only their hybrid descendants. I've managed to breed most of the thorns and poisons out of them at least, they are much more pleasant to work with."

Rukia fluffed the mulch over the little pseudobulb she had just transplanted. "Yeah. I bet."

* * *

  
  


The Eleventh Division was recruiting.

Most squads would pick up new members in a few months, when Shin'ou's spring term ended, but the Eleventh didn't have any rats’ asses to give about fresh-faced cadets brandishing class rankings. Instead, the unseated officers would run around the seediest pubs and gambling halls in Upper Rukongai, stapling up flyers and sending word around that they were holding a Brawl.

The Brawl was held in what had once been a training field, but was now basically a muddy pit, surrounded by a chain link fence (to keep people from escaping). Two figures in shihakushou and dark sunglasses trotted up to the outside of the fence, carrying lawn chairs and notepads. In a practiced motion, each one managed to toss their chair at the ground and unfold it simultaneously. Then, despite their vastly different anatomical scales, they threw themselves into the chairs in perfect synchronization, looking extremely relaxed.

Madarame Ikkaku stormed up to the inner side of the fence. "The sign-up table is down there, losers."

"Piss off, we're spectatin'," Renji replied.

"Like hell you are. Ain't no spectatin' at The Brawl. I'm glad you dirtbags are here, actually. We haven't had a 4th seat since Iba left, 'cause no one can beat Yumichika, and he won't take it."

"No thanks, I had a big lunch," Rukia shrugged.

"Am I being un-fucking-clear? If you are here, you are fighting! I will toss you into that pit myself if I have to! Yumi! Fill out entry forms for Abarai and Kuchiki here!"

Yumichika, who was in the middle of three other people's forms, yelled back something obscene.

Renji and Rukia exchanged a look over the top of their sunglasses, and then fished laminated badges on lanyards out of their kosodes, and presented them for inspection.

"What is this happy crappy?" Ikkaku demanded.

"Press passes," Renji explained lightly.

"Press passes?" Ikkaku echoed.

Renji raised his eyebrows.

"Are you starting your column up again?" Ikkaku asked, the tiniest note of hope in his voice.

"Naw," Renji shrugged. "But Hisagi wants a big feature on The Brawl, and asked me real nice if I could write something up for him."

"A big feature…?" Ikkaku appeared to be wavering. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's your sidekick here for?"

"The illustrations," Rukia supplied.

"And I'm _her_ sidekick, get it right," Renji added.

Ikkaku sniffed and jabbed a finger towards them. "Okay. You nerds can stay, but only because 'Let's Do Shikai!' was fuckin' _lit_. Make sure you get Yumi's good side, Kuchiki, or I'll never hear the end of it."

Rukia shot him a thumbs up.

Ikkaku harrumphed, and stalked back down to the amassed crowds, where he started shouting instructions.

Renji checked the time. "Should be starting real soon. Very prompt, The Brawl."

"So, how's it go?" Rukia asked, half because she wanted to know what she would be seeing, and half because she liked the way Renji explained things, especially stupid Squad 11 things.

"So, Seats 11 through 20 start out in the ring." He pointed down to where eight men and two women were stretching and swinging their weapons around experimentally. "At the stroke of 3, the filthy horde goes screaming in. If they knock out an officer, congratulations, they're Squad 11. Now, there are probably unseated folks mixed in that crowd, too."

"What are they there for?" 

"That's up to them. If you fight, you get out of clean-up duty, that's one reason. Some of them want to take a crack at one of the seated folks, gotta grudge maybe, or just wanna see if then can. Some of them like to play defense, keep the new folks from getting in. Some just wanna fight because, you know, Squad 11. They don't really have anything to win or lose, aside from a nice Saturday afternoon."

"I thought we came to this to see Madarame fight. But he's the 3rd Seat, right?"

"Oh, right. Once the thing gets going, every two minutes, another officer goes in. Now, sometimes, it sucks, and all the newbs are out of commission by the time Ikkaku gets his turn. He'll just fight his own officers if that happens. There's also a good chance he'll start yelling at us again."

"Will Captain Zaraki come?"

Renji tugged at his bandana. "Sometimes he does, mostly he can't be assed to show up. And if he does come, he doesn't bother with the rules, he'll just jump in if the fight looks good. If that happens, the rest of the officers who are waiting will jump in at the same time, it turns into a free-for-all." Renji chewed his lip. "Captain Zaraki _also_ liked 'Let's Do Shikai!' but he's not gonna buy it as an excuse, he'll probably throw us in."

"You didn't mention that."

"I forgot. He usually doesn't show. Look, if it does happen, you gotta take out Yachiru, okay?"

"Renji, come on!"

"I am not foolin' around! She is insanely fuckin' fast and I have never even _touched_ her. Your brother can catch her, though, and I know you're somewhere between him and me, speedwise. Watch out though, she hits way harder than you would think and she _bites_."

A gong rang and there was a great pounding of feet as the stampede into the pit began.

"And you would take out Zaraki, I suppose?" Rukia asked, skeptically.

"Depends on how it falls out. I might have to fight Ikkaku and Yumichika first, or they might team up with me to try to take the big guy down. Ikkaku can still beat me six times outta ten, Yumi maybe twice outta ten. Either way, it’ll be a lot harder if Yachiru is clinging to my head, that’s for damn sure. The last time I fought Zaraki one-on-one was last fall, right after I got bankai. I will have you know I lasted an entire four minutes against him, and I did actually draw blood, thank you very much."

"You're a lot stronger now," Rukia pointed out. "You did all that training with Chad."

"Well, don't go tellin' Zaraki that."

"What's that guy doing?" Rukia asked, pointing at a man crouched by the entrance gate.

"Ah, an intellectual. At the start, you see, everyone is mobbing those first ten officers, it's hard to even get to them. So a better strategy is to wait for the when the upper level guys start coming in, and try to get first crack at them."

"But wouldn't a lot of people do that?"

"It gets confusing down there. Also, they're idiots, Rukia."

The Ninth Seat went barreling in, knocking the waiting opponent flat on his back on her way by.

"Also, sometimes that happens," Renji noted.

"Have _you_ ever been knocked out in a Brawl?"

"Everyone does from time to time," he excused.

She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. "You're so strong on defense, though, and you obviously think these things to death."

He looked back at her, weighing something in his mind. "There was a portion of my tenure at Squad 11 when I did not take this sort of thing very seriously."

"You mean you would show up hungover or something?"

"Something like that.” Renji grinned suddenly. “In later years, Iba and I got into this really fun game where we would try to get each other knocked out. It was against the rules to do it directly, but we would distract each other or kneecap each other or knock each other's sunglasses off until one of the newbs got us. Iba was disgustingly good at that game."

Renji’s caginess was not lost on Rukia, but he had mentioned there were things about their lost years that he wasn’t too proud of. Well, his on-the-job performance in Squad 11 twenty years past was hardly her concern. Rukia let it slide. "You wore sunglasses to this thing?"

"Iba and I are incredibly cool."

Rukia made a few loose sketches while Renji took some notes, looking up from time to time.

“Ah, shit, there goes Maki-Maki,” Renji hooted. “That guy has to be the number one source of new Squad 11 recruits.”

“Is it normal to call people by their Yachiru nicknames?” Rukia asked.

“Only the Makis. There’s like five Makis in Squad 11. Big Maki, Really Big Maki, Maki-Maki, Maki-chan (who left a million years ago, I don't know why people still talk about him), Hammerhead, and Ugly Maki. I guess that’s six. Ugly Maki is actually an ironic nickname, he’s very good looking. For someone in Squad 11. That's not even a Yachiru nickname, Yachiru nicknames are never ironic.”

“Do you have a Yachiru nickname?”

“Of course I do. Arright, pay attention, Yumichika’s going in, shit’s about to get real.”

“Does he care about these things?” Rukia asked, making a mental note to find out Yachiru's nickname for Renji at all costs.

“Oh, he cares. He cares so much. Keep your eyes on that big meaty guy back near the mud hole, the one with the mullet. 3… 2…”

“ _Damn_!” Rukia blinked. “ _Yikes_ , that looked painful.”

“I gently suggested once that we put on the posters not to show up with tragic haircuts. I was very much overruled, Yumichika says he wants to know what he’s getting up front.”

“Well, when you’re the Kenpachi, you can run things however you want.”

Renji snorted. “Nooooo, thank you. You couldn't pay me enough.”

"You ever thought about which division you wanna be captain of?"

"Six."

Rukia snorted. "You can't be captain of Six."

"Six or bust," Renji stated definitively, obviously only half paying attention to her. He leaned forward in his chair. "Ikkaku's getting ready. See him down there, surveying the field? Now, Ikkaku likes to think of himself as a crazy, unpredictable fighter, but he is, in fact, very predictable, once you figure out how his weird, overheated brain works." Renji pointed to a far corner of the pit, where a short, but very muscular man was kicking a prone shinigami in the stomach. "You see that sleazebag down there with the exquisitely groomed mustache, giving Tazawa the business? He's already taken down the 11th and the 8th Seat. That's Ikkaku's guy for sure." He looked at Rukia. "Why?" he quizzed her.

Rukia pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, if the goal is recruiting, you wouldn't want the same person taking out too many officers. That guy is already in, right?"

"He is," Renji agreed neutrally.

"Or, maybe Ikkaku sees him as the greatest threat, and would rather take him on the offense."

"Closer," Renji said mildly.

Rukia's brow furrowed, as she tried to think about other Squad 11 stories Renji had told her. They were all phenomenally stupid. "He's the strongest and Ikkaku always wants to fight the strongest person," she blurted out.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!"

As if on cue, Ikkaku went barreling into the fighting area, Hozukimaru swinging. "YOU, with the mustache pomade!" he bellowed.

"He also hates people who overuse hair product, for... reasons," Renji noted.

"Does that mean I should gel up?" Rukia asked.

"No, no, it will only enrage him."

"You ready for a real fight?" Ikkaku screamed, casually knocking out some other poor combatant for emphasis.

"Bring it, cueball!" the other man shouted.

Renji wagged a finger. "He gets mad if you call him that, not _just_ because he is an overly sensitive baby, but also because it's so played out. Spend some time coming up with some custom insults, which is one of your biggest strengths anyway. He's kinda vain, and it will really distract him."

"Will do," Rukia agreed.

The mustachioed man went face first into the muck.

"That was so fast," Rukia gasped.

"Yes, and that's important. He will always try to do a one-hit K.O., and he will lose all respect for you if it works. You need to start out on the extreme defense."

"Does he have any respect for me to start with?" Rukia asked skeptically.

"He's fighting you, isn't he?"

They watched Ikkaku mow down a woman wielding a pair of curved swords.

"He does not give a single shit about hitting women, obviously," Renji noted, somewhat judgmentally.

"Good," Rukia sniffed.

"Loves fighting other people with reach weapons," Renji added as Ikkaku engaged a man with a polearm. The man actually held his own for close to a minute before Ikkaku disarmed him and moved on.

"Are you out of The Brawl if you get disarmed? Why didn't he knock that guy out?"

Another member of Squad 11 came by and clocked the man in the back of the head as he scrambled to regain his weapon.

"You seem hung up on the idea that anyone cares about the rules or that the actual purpose of this is gaining new members. It is not. It's just an excuse to fight. It's Squad 11. _Everything_ is just a thinly veiled excuse to fight."

"That's it, I'm callin' it!" Ikkaku’s shout rang up from below. "How many'd we get?"

Some math was performed.

"Six! Six, Boss!"

"A good haul!" Ikkaku roared. "But a shitty Brawl! Who's still got some fight left in 'em?"

Five shinigami tackled him at once.

Yumichika sauntered up to the fence. "Tell me the truth, Abarai. You miss this, don't you?"

Renji watched as the Twelfth Seat went flying through the air, landed in a mud puddle, and skidded until he collided with the unconscious and bloodied Fourteenth Seat.

"You know," said Renji thoughtfully. "I honestly do not."

* * *

Byakuya finished recording his orchid notes for the day, and was placing the log back on the shelf, when he happened to catch a glimpse out the window of Rukia dashing up the drive. He glanced at the time. They were due to attend a party that evening, and Byakuya suspected she should have already been well into her preparations by this hour. He wasn’t looking forward to the event, the latest in what seemed like a tedious string of excuses to gossip about politics and suck up to those who had gained positions of power in the continuing turmoil following the entire Aizen ordeal. As if Soul Society hadn’t almost been _destroyed_. As if people hadn’t _died_. But life went on it always did, for the civilians as well as the soldiers. 

He wondered where Rukia had been.

He half hoped that she would delay their departure, not that she ever had. Not like someone else he had once known. Someone who would keep him nervously standing in the front hall under the angry gaze and tapping foot of his grandfather, only to glide in, looking so astonishingly beautiful that--

Byakuya swallowed.

He thought of Hisana often. Every day, in fact. He had not forgotten her, not a bit of her.

But there were parts he thought about and parts that he didn’t.

What he thought of mostly, was the end. The peaceful, sleepy days of companionable silence. Of cancelling plans to read quietly by the fire. Of clear soups and soft bedding. Of short trips to the chilly garden, looking for early buds, wondering what might bloom early, of what she might get to see one last time.

Even though he remembered her passing quite clearly, it was difficult to demarcate her last days from the ones that followed. It often seemed that she lay just beyond his peripheral vision, that if he wandered the rooms of the house, he might just find her in the greenhouse sketching or drinking a cup of tea in the solarium.

These maddening phantoms had begun to fade after the first anniversary passed, and Byakuya began to think of life continuing on, as he took on a captaincy and leadership of the Clan. Then, abruptly, the quiet, nervous, unwanted shade of his wife had come to live with him. Sometimes, he would mean to go into the library, and he would see Rukia there, drawing in the sunny corner near the window, and he would back away. He would glimpse her in a crowd at a social event, lurking around the fringes, and for a moment, his brain would trick him into thinking she was someone else.

But Rukia was _not_ a ghost of her sister. That had become gradually clearer ever since her near-execution. The Rukia who had returned from her latest mission bore little resemblance at all to his resigned, peaceful, dying wife. Rukia still guarded herself around him, maintained _some_ sense of propriety, but with every slip, every time he saw her wandering the gardens barefoot in sub-freezing weather or heard her make some absolutely cutting dig at a mutually detested acquaintance, he got more and more of a glimpse of the mysterious person underneath. 

Which had caused him to think about the sharp, clever, self-possessed woman who had led him into the Wilds and stolen his heart. To be perfectly honest, Rukia also bore little resemblance to that Hisana, although his brain kept trying to make her fit, to find the patterns that would make a sensible tale of their sisterhood.

The pain of remembering a younger, stronger Hisana had once been unbearable, so he had resorted to the numbing melancholy of the dying version instead. But now… it was not so bad.

Carefully, Byakuya selected another journal, one from two shelves up. He leafed through it gently, stopping only on the hand-drawn diagrams, every detail intricately illustrated. He hadn’t been able to look at these since she had to stop drawing because her hands shook so much.

It hurt, but he found he could stand it.

There was a soft rap on the door. “Your Lordship,” Seike reminded him. “It is time to start preparing for your engagement this evening.”

Byakuya slid the journal back onto the shelf.

“Of course, Seike. Thank you for reminding me.”

* * *

"Renji! _Renji!_ Do you want more booze?"

Without looking up from his writing, Renji held out his cup for a refill.

"I realize I have missed a lot," Momo noted, pouring him some sake. "But you were supposed to watch out for him, Izuru, and look what he has become."

"No, bringing his paperwork to the bar is some new fresh hell, you can't pin this on me."

"I _am_ paying attention, you know," Renji grumbled, after taking a sip. "And it's not paperwork, it's Bulletin stuff for Shuuhei. I got a quick turnaround on this, he said he needed it by Monday."

"Are you bringing back 'Let's Do Shikai!!'" Momo asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm _not_ , this is a one-time thing." Renji looked up. "Is Shuuhei even _here_? I need to ask him something."

"He said he'd be late," Izuru replied. "Probably Bulletin stuff of his own. This is weird, you and Shuuhei working all the time while Momo and I slack off."

"Speak for yourself!" Momo protested. "I worked hard all day, and now I'm relaxing, because I earned it! Captain Hirako says he'll tell me when he needs me to work overtime and he doesn't want to see it otherwise."

"Sounds like excuses. Slacker."

Renji ignored Izuru's snark. “You guys are working out, then? You and Captain Hirako?” he asked, putting down his pen. “You seem...like pretty different people.”

Momo cocked her head to one side. “I haven’t decided yet. He’s weird, for sure. And right now, he’s really into dismantling the way we’ve always done things at Squad 5 and rebuilding everything from scratch.”

Izuru made a horrified face. “Oh, Momo, all your work!”

“I’m _glad_ , Izuru,” she scowled. “He talks to me a lot and asks my opinion and we’re trying to build back in all the things that were good and to make sure people feel included. But the place was like a moldy house. It needed to be torn down, down to the studs. When we’re done, it’s going to be my squad, more than it ever was before.”

“Good for you,” Renji announced.

Izuru still looked skeptical.

“How about you?” Momo jerked her head at Izuru. “You still hate him?”

“ _Hate_ is a very strong word.”

Momo looked at Renji meaningfully. “He hates his new captain.” 

“I don’t! It’s just...he keeps wanting to _do things_ together. And he’s so… concerned with my personal life. It’s not right.”

“What he means is, Captain Outoribashi keeps asking him why he makes sad faces all the time.”

“This is just my face! It’s how I look!”

“You didn’t used to,” Renji pointed out. “For the record.”

“He _wrote_ a _song_ about me.”

“Shuuhei writes songs about you all the time.”

“That is _different_.”

Momo and Renji exchanged a _look_.

“No! Stop that! Stop making that face at each other!”

They shrugged.

“I am not discussing this.” Izuru looked at Renji. “How do you deal with it? Hating your captain?”

Renji opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t hate him,” he finally managed. As a captain, he appended mentally. As Rukia’s brother, he can suck rocks.

“Really? You sure used to.”

Renji fiddled with his pen, trying to form an answer in his head. He had certainly said some dirty words about his captain the night before, that was for sure. But he didn't _hate_ Captain Kuchiki, and for all its frustrations, he kinda liked working under the guy. Obviously, anyone would look good in comparison to Aizen, but working under Zaraki wasn’t exactly a picnic either. The disorganization, the bloody _stupid_ ways they went about everything in Eleven. Six wasn’t perfect, obviously, but it was the best squad he had ever been in by far, and a lot of it was due to his hardass, perfectionist captain. His hardass, perfectionist captain who nevertheless let him go through with some of his admittedly longshot ideas for bringing the stragglers up to standard and starting a futsal team and for building morale. He breathed out in a huff, well aware that Izuru and Momo were both staring at him, waiting for a response. He just didn’t have the words.

Suddenly, two hands slammed down on his shoulders.

“Are you _writing copy_ at the bar? My perfect son! My only true friend!”

“Hey, Shuuhei,” Izuru gave their friend an aloof nod.

Momo ruined Izuru’s attempts at being cool by announcing, “Izuru’s been letting other people write songs about him.”

“Momo!”

Hisagi clenched a fist dramatically as he slid into the seat next to Renji. “It’s your beautiful face. It’s like the moon. It’s so inspirational.”

Renji contemplated piling on and letting Kira be the butt of the jokes for a bit, but he decided to be a good friend instead. “Oi, Shuuhei, I figured out how I want you to pay me back for this favor I’m doin’ you,” he said, pointing toward his notepad.

“I don’t owe you a favor,” Shuuhei shot back. “You asked for some press passes, and said you would write me a story. We’re even, pal.”

“C’mon! It’s a _feature_ , and I threw in illustrations!”

“I’m payin’ you, what more do you want?”

“I want a tiny little favor!”

Shuuhei shrugged noncommittally.

“C’mon, everyone loves his down-home earthy prose,” Izuru pointed out. “Wasn’t ‘Let’s Do Shikai!!’ your all-time second or third most popular column? You're probably going to sell out your print run. When's the last time that happened?”

“Okaaaay,” Shuuhei declared magnanimously. “I will _listen to_ what your teeny tiny favor is, and then I shall decide.” 

Renji gritted his teeth. “I need you to teach me to cook rice,” he muttered.

Shuuhei blinked, and cupped on hand behind his ear. “Come again?”

“I realize how awkward this is, but I would be very grateful… if you could show me… how to cook rice,” Renji sighed. “Sempai.”

Momo gave a snort of laughter.

Shuuhei crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Look, man, I gotta warn you. Cooking is really not the best way to impress someone you’re into.”

Renji squeezed his eyes shut. He was going to take this. He deserved it.

"Because sometimes you can cook for someone that you’re into a couple times a week for like, I dunno, three or four years--”

“It was three,” Renji grumbled.

“--and they might somehow still be _surprised_ when you casually mention that you thought that--”

“Everyone here knows this story!” Renji exclaimed. “I’m a dumbass! We! All! Know! And I’m not trying to impress anyone! Who would be impressed by _rice_ anyway?”

Shuuhei picked up an extra cup and motioned for Izuru to fill it. “I would be _overjoyed_ , Abarai. I’ll teach you to cook anything you want.”

“Rice’ll do, thanks,” Renji grumped, then suddenly brightened. “Wait! Could you teach me to make those little homemade shrimp crackers? Those are so good.”

“Mmm,” Shuuhei agreed. “Now those, _those_ will get you a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. I assume we’re talking about Kuchiki?”

“This has nothing to do with her!” Renji protested. “It’s for me! I just want to eat at home sometimes!”

“Where is Rukia, anyway?” Momo asked. “I was under the impression you two were a package deal again these days.”

"She had noble stuff," Renji excused. "Some ritzy party or something. I'm sure she'd rather be here. And, ah, we’re not-- we don’t-- I mean-- Izuru, why don’t you ever do noble stuff?"

“Weak, Abarai,” Shuuhei noted. “But, yeah, Izuru, why don’t you ever do noble stuff?”

Izuru wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t felt like it. It’s so lame, guys.”

“His sister’s been sending him nastygrams,” Momo offered cheerfully.

“The problem is,” Izuru said, rubbing his forehead, “that after the entire Central 46 got wiped out, they had to replace them, right? So, there was the whole wave of wheeling and dealing and negotiating and sucking up and family alliances and _drama_. Rukia is actually lucky she was out of town and missed most of it.”

“That’s mostly settled at this point,” Shuuhei pointed out. “A few of the members are expected to be temporary placeholders, but they’ve got butts in 46 seats, they’re back in business now.”

“Right,” Izuru agreed. “Which has set off a _second wave_ of this horseshit, because now everyone wants an in with the people who were picked.”

“How does this affect you?” Renji frowned. As far as he knew, the Kiras were very minor nobility. They had a nice estate just outside the city, where Izuru’s sisters lived and kept the furniture from getting too dusty. 

“Because my first cousin was a clerk for one of the original members, and since now everyone is so inexperienced, he basically got promoted to being the secretary for the Committee on Seireitei Internal Affairs.”

“Is that important?” Renji asked. “Also, I still don’t see what that has to do with you?”

Izuru closed his eyes painfully. “It’s…noble shit. It's nonsensical. It's complicated. It’s...”

* * *

“It’s _betrothal_ season!”

“Omaeda Maremi! Betrothed! Tsunayashiro Wakana! Betrothed! Naruse Tami! Betrothed!”

Rukia was not a particularly social creature, and cultivating friendships with other nobles, particularly ones outside of her own family was a bit of a fraught affair. Nevertheless, she had been attending these things for half a century now, and she had managed to find a few people who, if perhaps she wouldn’t storm Hueco Mundo for, she didn’t mind shooting the shit with at parties (or, when the opportunity arose, sneaking off to a dark corner with for a quick snog, although less so in recent years). They had all started out in the Eligible Daughters category, and slowly, methodically, worked themselves in a state of questionable eligibility at best. 

Byakuya, to date, had showed little interest in who Rukia chose to socialize with. On one hand, her motley collection of eccentrics mostly hailed from the more rarefied families, which he approved of. They were also all deeply devoted to various avocations, which he had recently recommended that she herself adopt. And yet...

“Tami?” Rukia replied, swishing her plum wine. “Really? She told me once she’d rather kiss a horse than a man.” This was not exactly an idle threat-- Naruse Tami maintained a champion bloodline of horses, and 95% of conversation with her consisted of stories about how mean they were and all the ways her prize-winning war stallions had tried to murder her this week. She loved those horses with all her heart. Byakuya actually owned one, a terrifying nightmare of an animal that reminded Rukia strongly of Zaraki Kenpachi.

“That may not be a problem, since she’s marrying Kannogi Naohisa, who feels the same way about women. I probably wouldn’t mind ignoring a guy’s affairs as long as he ignored mine, if I got to live it up in his family’s lake house,” Akizuki Toshiko announced. Toshiko was a bit of an expert on affairs, if only in her own imagination. She had written a great many scandalous romance novels under a nom-de-plume. Many of them featured scenes that seemed anatomically unlikely, in Rukia’s opinion, but it hadn’t stopped her from reading all of them.

“Not me,” Hirata Sasori sniffed. “I’ll never marry a man. How do you do it, Rukia? Surely, your brother must have gotten about a thousand offers for you while you were out of town.” Sasori was close to six feet tall, and built like Chad. She was from a branch of the Kasumioji family, the weapons-makers, and prided herself on being able to fight with every kind of blade her family could produce.

Rukia frowned. “He’s never tried to marry me off. Never even mentioned it. Wait, I guess he did the other day, but it was in passing.”

“ _Really_?” Sasori raised her eyebrows. "My pop never shuts up about it." 

“I don’t know. I always assumed it was because he also doesn’t want to get remarried.”

“You’re in the shinigami corps, though," Toshiko pointed out loftily."They can’t make you get married if you’re in Gotei.” 

Rukia frowned. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“What do you mean, it’s not true? Rukia, I need that to be true. It’s a plot point in my next book.”

Rukia made a face. “You’re writing a romance novel about shinigami?”

“Shinigami are hot property these days! Did you see the pictures in the Seireitei Bulletin Ryouka Invasion Special? Some of those assistant captains--!”

Rukia rolled her eyes. “I know them all. They’re dorks.”

“Don’t burst my bubble, Kuchiki! Also, one of my heroines is trying to escape an arranged marriage by entering the Gotei, you’re telling me that wouldn’t work?”

Rukia contemplated this. “You’ve got it backwards, I think. The Gotei can _grant_ marriages, which can’t be overruled by Family Law, not the other way around. I mean, I guess your heroine could enter the Gotei and marry another shinigami to escape her arranged marriage? Would that work?”

Toshiko gasped. “Rukia, you’re a genius!”

Rukia shrugged. It’s not like she hadn’t read a million of these things in two different worlds, no less. “It wouldn’t work that well. Her dad could still disown her.”

Toshiko flapped a hand. “No, he ultimately loves her and doesn’t want to lose her. But _meanwhile_ , she’s married her best friend, who is helping her out, but then they discover--”

“That they have feelings for each other,” Rukia and Sasori droned together.

“This is a winner,” Toshiko mumbled. “I should go home and start writing.”

“Do not make the best friend look like me,” Rukia warned. “Don’t do it.”

Toshiko made a face that indicated this was exactly what she had planned to do.

“I wish I could join the shinigami,” Sasori scowled. “Not just to avoid a marriage, although that sounds like a bonus. I just want to fight monsters. Father refuses to let me attend the Academy, though.”

Rukia tilted her head to one side. “You don’t actually have to go to the Academy to join the Gotei, I just found out recently.” She wondered if anyone noble had ever Brawled their way into the Eleventh. She had the distinct impression that Sasori and Ikkaku would probably get along just great.

Toshiko’s face lit up. “Then, if you needed to, you two could get shinigami-married!”

Sasori and Rukia eyed each other.

“Wouldn’t say no,” Sasori declared.

“I’d consider it,” Rukia agreed. “I already have a shinigami best friend, though. He’d get mad if I didn’t give him first right of refusal.” It was a joke. Mostly a joke. Byakuya wouldn't marry me off to someone terrible anyway, she assured herself. Probably.

“I can accept that,” Sasori nodded.

“Rukia,” a cool voice broke in as a familiar reiatsu washed over her.

Rukia jumped. “Brother! What are you doing here?” In my secret spot behind the food table, she didn’t add. She hoped, desperately, that he hadn't overheard any of that ridiculous conversation.

“My apologies, ladies, I would speak with my sister,” Byakuya addressed her friends, who were both bowing deeply. 

“It was good to see you, Lady Rukia!” Toshiko called.

“We should have tea, soon!” Sasori added.

As Rukia bid her friends farewell, her stomach knotted. Byakuya never talked to her at these sorts of things, and all the talk of betrothals had her a little spooked. 

“Those are some interesting acquaintances you have,” Byakuya noted, eyeing Toshiko and Sasori, as he led Rukia into a quiet corner.

“They are both from very respectable families,” Rukia pointed out. 

“True,” Byakuya drew out.

“Brother? Was there something you wished to discuss?”

“Ah, yes. Are you having a good time?”

There was a bit of a faraway look in Byakuya's eyes. Usually, he adopted his party face at these things, an expression that was 95% boredom and 5% vague amusement, as if he were thinking about a joke he had heard earlier in the day. But right now, he looked 95% bored, 3% irritated, 1% tired and 1% kinda sad. 

Rukia stared at him blankly, stupefied by both the question and the facial expression. “Uh, some of the canapes were good?”

“This party is a meat market,” Byakuya muttered.

“That’s why I like to hide behind the shrimp table,” Rukia pointed out. “Maybe you’re too tall for that.”

“Would you mind if we were to depart early?”

Rukia almost asked him if he were feeling alright, but decided he was just as likely to bristle at her concern as to be comforted by it. “Can we do that?”

“We have put in our appearance,” Byakuya shrugged. “It is a bit early, but that just means we would have time for decent glass of sake at home and a game of shogi. If you were so inclined.”

Rukia dumped her plum wine into a nearby potted plant. “You’re on.” 

* * *

  
  


Rukia looked at her bowl. She took a deep breath and then regretted it.

She wasn’t sure how late they had stayed up, but she was pretty sure Byakuya had tricked her into drinking too much when it looked like she was starting to dominate the shoji board. It wasn’t a full blown hangover, but her head pounded, and her stomach was extremely skeptical of this morning’s breakfast offerings. She was honestly a little impressed. Kuchiki Rukia was not an easy woman to outdrink, and she had never taken her brother for much of a boozer. She filed this information away for future reference.

“Is something the matter, Sister?” Byakuya asked.

“I told you my memories are still a little mixed up,” Rukia confessed. I don’t remember if I like nattou or not. Do you remember?”

Byakuya opened his mouth and then closed it again. “ _I_ like nattou.”

“I know _you_ do, Brother,” Rukia replied. Stolidly, she took a big bite and chewed it thoughtfully. 

Byakuya watched her.

“I do not,” Rukia declared. “Whether or not I did before.”

Rukia’s maid appeared at her elbow. It was a new girl-- for some reason, Rukia never managed to keep maids for very long, and the last one had either been dismissed or found a new position during Rukia’s extended absence. Mikan, Rukia reminded herself of the girl’s name. Mikan, Mikan, Mikan. “Would you like me to fetch you something else, Lady Rukia?”

Rukia blew her hair out of her face. “Do we ever have… oh, what is it called? Where you mix raw egg with hot rice, and it cooks it up nice and foamy?”

“Tamago kake gohan, miss,” Mikan provided. "Er, I can check."

Byakuya raised one eyebrow. “It sounds like peasant food to me.”

“Oh, you would like it, Brother, it’s so good with hot sauce.”

Byakuya regarded her coldly. 

“Could I get some miso soup?” Rukia mumbled.

“Of course, miss,” Mikan scurried off.

“Do you have plans for today, Rukia?” Byakuya asked.

“I was going to do some drawing, actually,” Rukia replied. If she could clear this headache, that is. She wished she had some coffee. 

“Ah, wonderful,” Byakuya noted pleasantly. “By the way, we are having an exceptionally delightful guest for tea this afternoon.”

“The keeper for the Seireitei Firebirds!” Rukia guessed facetiously. 

“I’m sure he is absolutely boorish,” Byakuya returned.

“That poet you like. The one who dresses in cobwebs and writes about very small birds,” Rukia tried again.

“Alas, she does not answer my tear-stained missives,” Byakuya replied in an utter deadpan.

“The Captain-Commander,” Rukia made a final attempt.

“Rukia, who is the most charming, agreeable, and absolutely captivating woman you can think of?”

Rukia wasn't sure if there were _any_ of Byakuya's relatives that he actually liked, but she did know that he never, ever spoke ill of them. No, he spoke _cheerfully_ of them, instead. The more he hated them, the more complimentary he became. His sense of humor was so dry and so bitingly specific that he had apparently done this for a long time without anyone catching on, but Rukia could recognize a sick burn from a mile away and had cottoned to his game almost immediately. She wasn’t nearly as good at it as he was, but her attempts were decent enough to let him know that she saw what he was doing and that she loved it. He was really very, very funny, if you paid close enough attention. But between the headache and the nattou, Rukia's sense of humor was on strike this morning.

"It's Aunt Azami, isn't it?" she grumbled.

Byakuya smiled, just a tad, raised his eyebrows, tipped his head in the slightest of nods, and sipped his tea.

* * *

"How many more of these do we have to do before we can go fight?" Eighth Seat Shirogane asked glumly, as Renji passed her another budget form to double-check for him. 

He flipped through his stack. "Three. And don't think I ain't grateful for your help--'cause I am--but this is good training for you, too, you know?"

"Is it, now?" Shirogane echoed skeptically.

"Pretty common in most other squads for the lieutenant to push some of his paperwork off on his top seats. Ohno and Kuchiki make such a hash of it, though, Captain always makes me re-do theirs. Keep working hard, you might make lieutenant before either of 'em."

The bespectacled young woman regarded him strangely. "Is it true, then? You aren't planning on sticking around?"

Renji almost dragged his brush across the page, but managed to stop himself in time. "Whu? Where'd you hear that?"

Shirogane frowned. "I mean, it's just a thing people were saying for a while. That once you got back, you would most likely take over one of the squads without a captain. Since you have bankai and all, and also, you don't really, er…"

"Fit in around here?" Renji asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Get the respect that you deserve," Shirogane said quickly, making intense eye contact with her budget forms.

Renji was stupefied for a moment, but then he gave her a kind smile. "Respect is something that's gotta be earned, and that can take time. No one's ever refused to follow my orders, doesn't bother me if it takes some folks a while to come around."

Shirogane was looking at him like he'd just suggested that Hollows could be perfectly reasonable as long as you didn't catch them when they were hangry.

"Anyway," Renji blathered on, "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. All those captain slots are filled now, which is good, 'cause I'm nowhere near ready for that." He paused. "Plus, I like it here. I'm sure it was just wishful thinking on the part of whichever Gotou or Ohno started that rumor."

“I’m sure,” Shirogane agreed noncommittally. “Squad 6 isn’t a place that’s real used to change. You’ve changed things. Believe it or not, there are people around here who like the idea that respect can and should be earned.” 

Renji was thoughtful for a long moment. “Your dad--”

“My father was an excellent assistant captain, very brave and very loyal,” Shirogane announced. "He always followed his orders to the letter and never tried to change a single thing." 

“I guess that answers the question of how he happened to get on Captain Kuchiki’s good side,” Renji said softly.

“Well, that and the fact that Dad was always respectful of Lady Hisana, at a time when a lot of people weren't. She was common, did you know that?"

"Huh," Renji replied. "I mean, yeah, I knew that. Did you know her? The captain's wife?"

"Me? No, she died when I was a baby. Dad always said that you'd never know she wasn't born noble, to meet her." Shirogane laughed. "Whatever that means, right?"

Renji knew exactly what it meant, because he had once watched Rukia skin a flea-ridden muskrat she had caught and thought to himself that had never seen anyone clean a carcass so _elegantly_. 

But instead, he chuckled "Right!" and glanced down at his unfinished budget. "Hey, forget the rest of this, let's go outside. I'm dying to see your new attack."

Shirogane wrinkled her nose. "It's only three more, let's just get it done. I don't want you to be preoccupied with your unfinished paperwork when you're supposed to be admiring my swordsmanship."

"Wouldn't want that at all," Renji agreed.

* * *

Rukia sighed. She had really been getting into her flow on her Brawl illustrations, and she was grumpy at being interrupted. She had a suspicion this was going to be the greatest piece of art she had ever done.

"--so wonderful to have Lady Rukia back with us again, unharmed and as lovely and charming as ever!"

Rukia tried to make a neutral face at Aunt Azami's disingenuous gushing. She was half tempted to show off the new scar that took up most of her upper arm, but Byakuya surely wouldn't appreciate that.

"I hear from Takehiko," Aunt Azami went on, a little chillier, "that your lieutenant has returned to duty, as well,"

"This is true," Byakuya agreed.

"We all know you were having your fun when you hired _that person_ , but my understanding is that you missed an opportunity to replace him with a more appropriate officer, a member of the family, perhaps."

"Aunt," Byakuya replied, "The workings of the Gotei 13 are very convoluted and may seem confusing from the outside. _Your understanding_ may not account for the fact that there is no such person with whom I could replace him."

"My Takehiko has served under you for quite a few years now."

"There is an examination system, Aunt, that qualifies an officer for the position of adjutant."

"I find it a bit difficult to believe that there is an administrative hurdle that a Kuchiki could not find some way to overcome."

Byakuya took a sip of his tea. "It is a very thorough demonstration of overall fitness and ability, Aunt, and for good reason. Vice-Captain is possibly the most dangerous post in the Gotei. They are sent into unknown, potentially dangerous circumstances and expected to engage formidable opponents at a much lower power level than what is required of a captain. There is a tremendous attrition rate. I think I do not need to remind you that my own father died a Vice-Captain."

Rukia pulled the peel off a slice of cucumber with her fingers. She had known that, she thought, that Byakuya's father had died in the line of duty, but she hadn't necessarily considered his rank at the time.

"In any case, the test is a well established measure of one's minimum suitability. Only a very great fool would seek to circumvent it."

Rukia's brain churned with thoughts. Byakuya had said he felt she was capable of passing the exam. She had assumed at the time that he didn't put much stock in the abilities of the vice-captain class, but maybe he thought better of her after all. Or maybe he just enjoyed tweaking Aunt Azami's buttons.

"Have you considered, then, giving some personal attention to some of your dear cousins?" Aunt Azami suggested sweetly. "Help them to achieve their potential? Since you yourself are such an experienced and well-respected captain?" 

"As a captain, there is great demand on my time and attention, Aunt. 'Personal attention' is literally why I _have_ Abarai. It is hardly my fault if you son doesn't wish to train with the man. Your nephew Choei, for example, has been much improved under his tutelage."

Aunt Azami made the face she often made in regards to her nephew Choei. Then she looked at Rukia slyly out of the corner of her eye. “I hear he is very coarse. Hardly an appropriate person to be associating with our younger, more impressionable family members.” 

Rukia swallowed. She knew rumors went around quickly, but this quickly?

“You’ve never even met the man,” Byakuya sniffed disdainfully. “Perhaps he has not had the benefits of a civilized upbringing, but he is very honest and upright. He may have a great many...idiosyncrasies, but on the whole, I think a good many of our young people would do well to look to his example.”

Rukia’s teacup was frozen halfway to her mouth. She had forgotten how to blink. Byakuya hated Aunt Azami, but she never would have guessed that he hated her enough to _defend Renji_ to her face.

“Perhaps I should meet him, if you think so highly of him,” Aunt Azami returned, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Perhaps that would clear many things up.”

“He’s very busy these days,” Byakuya excused a little too quickly.

“Is he?” Aunt Azami asked. “I heard he does a great deal of socializing.” She shot Rukia another knowing look.

Byakuya looked horrified. “Aunt, surely you have better things to do than keep tabs on my underlings.”

“It came up naturally, in the context of some of the company he keeps.”

Byakuya waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, fine, I’ll wrangle him over for tea one of these days. _Please,_ can we speak of something less tedious? Surely you have some more interesting topic, closer to your own heart, for us to discuss."

“We started out talking of Lady Rukia, didn’t we?”

Rukia sighed.

"It's inappropriate, in my opinion," Aunt Azami went on, "sending a young woman off on a long mission like that, away from her family and society." Aunt Azami put her teacup down very intentionally. "Nephew, dear, I know you like that idea of these things percolating naturally, but with Rukia's schedule being so dominated by her little job, don't you think it's time to take a more active hand in," she gave Byakuya a meaningful glance, "selecting a husband."

Rukia had just taken a large sip of tea, and she held it in her mouth, knowing that she would choke on it if she tried to swallow. The words _"betrothal season!"_ echoed ominously in her head.

"No," Byakuya replied.

Relief washed through Rukia's body.

"It is so stressful, dear, having the family in this state of having no Heir in sight, and the main house being barely functional--”

"In what way are we not functional?” Byakuya asked, aghast.

“You entertain so little, Nephew, as compared to when your dear mother and grandmother were alive.”

“My own wife was also very social, you may have forgotten.”

Rukia gripped her teacup. This was the most interesting tea she had attended in forty years. Byakuya was dropping things left and right.

“Er, as you say, dear.”

“It is no matter. Throw your own social events if you desire them. Speak to Seike if you wish to use the manor or the grounds.”

“That’s not _the point_ , Nephew, dear. The Head should acknowledge his family by celebrating their achievements. For example, were you even aware that your second cousin Gotou Naoko will be very shortly delivering a new family member? The first in over ten years.” Aunt Azami let out a heart-broken sigh. "I suppose her mother is probably planning to hold the shower at her house..."

“I sent a card,” Byakuya pointed out.

“Do you throw parties for babies?” Rukia asked. There were plenty of babies in Rukongai, but they came about the natural way-- dying and getting scooped up by the first person who happened across them. They might get passed along a few times before they found a semi-permanent home. Pregnancy was a strange and mysterious idea to her.

“It is traditional,” Aunt Azami sniffed.

“I could throw a party for the baby,” Rukia announced.

Byakuya and Aunt Azami spilled their tea at the same time.

Rukia smiled smugly. Brother wanted her acting more like a Kuchiki, right? And Aunt Azami thought she wasn’t as good a Lady as Byakuya’s mother or grandmother? Sounded like hitting two birds with one _Sokatsui_ to her. “You don’t mind, do you, Brother? If we had a little get-together for her here?”

“Have you...ever…?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Rukia replied flippantly.

A strange look overcame Byakuya’s face. “That would be very kind of you, Sister.”

Aunt Azami still looked mortified.

Truly, the most eventful tea she had ever attended.

* * *

"Captain," Abarai said, standing as Byakuya entered the office on Monday morning. From the look of things, the young man had already been at work for a while. "I wanted to let you know that I will be resuming a more normal schedule this week, at least during standard work hours."

Byakuya's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

Abarai set his jaw. "It means I'm not gonna sit in here doing paperwork eight straight hours a day like I did last week."

Byakuya's brows went up. “I believe I indicated how highly I prioritized catching up on it, did I not?"

"That's true, sir," Renji pointed out. "But I can stay late to do paperwork. I've been away from the officers for too long. I don't know who's struggling and who's slacking and who's ready to take on bigger things. It's not their fault I'm behind and they deserve a lieutenant who puts them over some already long overdue forms. Sir."

Byakuya regarded him coolly, secretly pleased. He'd expected at least another two days before Abarai pushed back on the paperwork. "As it happens, I think that's an excellent idea. I have been contemplating the idea of doing a full review of our seated officers. I'd like you to draft an evaluation rubric and once we come to agreement on it, I'd like you to put each of them through their paces. I also wish to make a note of who practices my family sword style, and their proficiency therein. I shall perform that portion of the assessment myself, but please add it to your evaluation."

Now it was Abarai's preposterous eyebrows that shot up. "Sounds like a lot of fun to me, sir, but some of 'em aren't gonna like it. You've previously made one-on-one time with the ol’ Vice-Captain to be optional for 10th Seat and above."

"I did that upon hiring you in the interest of sparing some delicate egos. Lately, I have been told that my officers are receiving inadequate training and I find myself no longer concerned about egos. Please inform me if you receive any pushback, Lieutenant."

"Will do, sir." Renji thought for a moment. "Can probably have those evaluation criteria for you tomorrow."

"That quickly? Please take your time and be thoughtful about this."

Renji scoffed. "Sir, I'm never _not_ thinkin' about this stuff. Just a matter of writing it down."

Byakuya felt a warm wave of contentment. Dealing with his jockeying, backstabbing, bootlicking upper seats was one of the most soul-sapping aspects of his job, and bludgeoning them with the blunt object of his meathead vice-captain bearing an impartial scoring rubric was going to be _so, so_ satisfying.

~ end part 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical Thursday  
> Where's everyone from Squad Six?  
> You will not find them  
> They have been called to duty  
> Oh dip! it's Poetry Night

* * *

* * *

Byakuya had miscalculated.

He usually tried to arrive at captains' meetings between one and three minutes before they started, in order to avoid the abhorrent _shit-shooting_ , as Abarai would call it, in which the other captains seemed to enjoy engaging.

He had arrived seven minutes early.

This was, as it happened, Abarai’s fault. Byakuya had intended to spend his morning reviewing mission reports, except that Abarai said that _he_ had looked over the mission reports, and they were terrible, so he had sent them back to the officers responsible to be rewritten. Obviously, Byakuya did not wish to waste his time reading terrible reports, but it had sent his entire day into disarray, and now look at him. At the Captains’ Meeting. Early. Having shit shot at him.

"That was a real nice write-up your boy did on our recruiting drive last week." Oh, merciful heavens, was Zaraki talking to _him_?

"My... _what?"_ Byakuya echoed disdainfully. 

"Your boy. The one you stole from me."

"You are referring to my _adjutant_?"

Zaraki stared blankly at him. "Abarai. We're talkin' about Abarai, right? Red hair? Knows where stuff is?"

"I know who he is, obviously," Byakuya snapped. "I do not know what you are referring to, however." He hoped his snappishness would end this unpleasant interaction. It did not.

"Oi! Muguruma! You got any of those fishwraps your division puts out on ya?"

Captain Muguruma looked deeply confused.

"I think he means the Seireitei Bulletin," Captain Outoribashi suggested helpfully. 

Byakuya had not yet formed an opinion of the newly minted Vizard captains. They had been crucial in the battle to defeat Aizen, and he was trying to remain _open-minded_. The more he got to know them, though, the more he was growing to open-mindedly hate them.

Mugurama's jaw had dropped in horror. "You mean we actually _do_ publish a newspaper? Soul King on toast! I thought Hisagi was messing with me. What the actual fuck?"

“It’s more of a magazine,” Captain Hitsugaya put in.

"If you say 'fuck' in his meetings, the Captain-General will yell at you," Komamura informed Muguruma helpfully. "It was a very good write-up, though. Iba particularly liked the illustrations."

Zaraki gave off a laugh that sounded like a bear with a stomach upset. "Yachiru liked those, too. We hung 'em up in the office, Madarame is pissing nails!" 

"Do you even maintain an office?" Byakuya curled his lip in disgust. Normally, he wouldn't try to engage with the man, but he was feeling off balance. Apparently Abarai was writing for the Bulletin again? While Byakuya approved of civic engagement generally, Renji had far too much on his plate to be doing this sort of thing right now. 

"I have a room where I drink and people can come find me if they want to fight," Zaraki shrugged.

Captain Kyouraku wandered in, yawning. There was a rolled-up magazine tucked under his arm.

"Oi! Fancypants! That this month's Bulletin? Show it to Six here, he ain't seen it yet!"

Kyouraku blinked, and then shook out the periodical and looked at it. "Oh, of course!" He held it out to Byakuya. "She sure did a nice job. You must be very proud, Byakuya."

"I think you must be confused," Byakuya sniffed. It was highly likely, Kyouraku was barely functional on his good days. "Apparently I'm to look at some article my lieutenant…" he trailed off.

Byakuya took in the elaborate illustration that took up most of the cover. It was the most adorable depiction of raccoon-on-bunny violence he had ever seen. It could only be the work of one person. He flipped to the feature article and took in the dual byline, two names he did not ever want to see in print in such close proximity to each other.

He realized that Muguruma was looking over his shoulder in absolute horror. "I gave up television and Pocky to come publish an elementary school newspaper," he mumbled.

Byakuya glared icily at the man. "My own sister produced this illustration, you _punk_. You _clod._ It is _art_."

"Oh," said Muguruma. "Cool." He paused for a moment, but couldn't come up with anything better to say. "Super cool."

* * *

  
  


Byakuya located his adjutant out in Training Field 2, putting Seventh Seat Gotou through his paces. Angry as he was, Byakuya was a paragon of self-control. He waited at the edge of the field. It was not often that he got to see Abarai in this capacity of his work, and perhaps it was not such a bad idea to observe the man.

The Gotous were the second most powerful Kuchiki branch family and Gotou Eiichi was the very portrait of a Kuchiki-- tall, aquiline nose, self-confident. Like most family members, he practiced the Kuchiki sword style nearly exclusively. He had been something of a bully up until last summer, when Abarai, mid-jailbreak, had rendered his nose even more aquiline than it was originally. To be honest, Gotou was still a bully, but now he was also extremely deferential to his lieutenant, which was… better, Byakuya supposed.

Byakuya watched, curious, as Renji ran Gotou through the same attack pattern over and over, demonstrating different ways it could be blocked or redirected. Then, Abarai suggested an adjustment to his stance, and demonstrated the improvement. Gotou nodded. Both men sheathed their swords, Abarai spoke at length, Gotou appearing to listen closely. 

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Gotou greeted him with a deep bow, as he departed the field. 

“I’ll be right with you, sir!” Abarai called. “Just need to write some stuff down, don’t wanna forget!”

Byakuya sighed heavily.

Abarai was not a fast writer.

Eventually, the younger man trotted up. “Hey, Captain. What can I do you for?”

Byakuya frowned, having nearly forgotten what he wanted Abarai for in the first place. Abarai took this opportunity to run his fool mouth. 

“Oh, by the way, I don’t know if you’ve been back to the office, but I finished everything up through December! Nice, neat stack on your desk, including the amended Year-End!"

Byakuya blinked. "I took care of the Year-End Report myself. I didn't even tell you to look at it."

Renji scoffed. "It was my job to put it together, I thought I should at least look it over. I do appreciate you pinch hittin' for me, sir."

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. "You apparently found it...wanting?"

Renji didn't seem to notice the thin ice he was currently on. "Matsumoto says theirs got kicked back because she put Advance Team expenses under the larger Winter War category, but we actually had our own charge code. I noticed you did the same thing, sir, so I fixed it up before ours gets kicked back, too. I think Lieutenant Sasakibe looks at them starting with the ones he expects to have the most mistakes, so we should be pretty close to the end. Sir." He finally seemed to notice the glower his boss was leveling on him. "Uh, is everything okay? Sir?"

The rage boiling through his veins had reminded Byakuya of the original reason he was here. "I was just wondering, Lieutenant, how you found the time to be so productive, on top of dragging my beloved sister to a Squad 11 brouhaha and then writing a feature length article thereon." With that, he dramatically unfurled the copy of the Seireitei Bulletin he'd finally managed to get ahold of.

It did not have quite the effect he was hoping for.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. "To be honest, sir, I'm not sure I slept at all last weekend. I usually hit my peak performance about 30 hours in, after that, I start to make a lot of spelling--"

"What I meant to ask," Byakuya bit off, "is _why_ in Five Hells would you think this was an appropriate event for my delicate and refined sister to witness?"

Abarai made the uncomfortable face of a schoolboy trying to explain the whereabouts of his missing homework. This was more like it. "Ruk-- Lady Rukia was talkin' about trying to get some traction with her artwork," he excused. "I guess I got kind of a following from that column I used to write, and Hisagi asked me special if I wouldn't write up that piece for him, and I only agreed so long as, uh, Lady Rukia could do the pictures. For the exposure." He stuck out his lower lip. "I mean, she got paid, market rate, we both did! The Bulletin treats its freelancers very fairly. I would never get your sister some sort of bullshit speculation gig!" He searched Byakuya's face, desperate for any hint of how this was going over. "Sir."

Byakuya allowed the silence to hang into an uncomfortable length, before, finally, "There are more appropriate venues for my sister's art than _journalism_."

Abarai straightened up. "Understood, sir."

"I do not want to hear about Rukia setting foot on the grounds of the Eleventh Division again, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!" Abarai looked downright...squirmy.

"And one more thing, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?"

Byakuya scowled. He did not want to have to bring this up, but if _one more person_ asked him… "Do you have plans to resume that column of yours?"

“‘Let’s Do Shikai!’, you mean, sir?”

Byakuya winced. That _title--!_ “It is of no matter to me, obviously, but I have had to field a number of inquiries.”

“Naw, sir, no plans. Don’t got the time.”

“Good,” Byakuya assessed. “It was incredibly simplistic, I have no idea why it gained such popularity.”

“Well, it was intended for junior shinigami, and also to inspire kids to go to the Academy,” Renji pointed out. “I’m pretty sure Rikichi joined up because of ‘Let’s Do Shikai!’ Lotta people said they liked it though, 'cause no matter how good you are, you can always go back and reconsider the fundamentals.” There was a long beat. “You read my column? Sir?”

“I need to get back to the office,” Byakuya announced.

* * *

  
  


“Sister,” Byakuya said over dinner, “we must talk.”

Rukia chewed the bite of food in her mouth slowly. Renji had warned her that the jig was up. “Yes, Brother?”

“It is about your art.”

“I guess you saw this week’s Bulletin, huh?”

“Artistic expression is a difficult road, Sister. True art exposes the soul of the artist; it is an act of vulnerability.”

Rukia cocked her head to the side. She personally, felt that depicting the biggest, toughest fighters in the Gotei 13 as a variety of adorable woodland creatures was a bit of a baller move, if she did say so herself. “I got a lot of compliments on the drawing, Brother.”

“You know that I both love and admire your artistic skills,” Byakuya said quickly.

“As I love and admire yours!” Rukia quickly broke in.

Byakuya’s know-it-all expression broke for a brief moment. “Ah… ah, thank you. Yes. Um. As I was saying. Art critics can be very, very cruel. I wanted to advise you that it might be better to keep your art as a more private pursuit than to pursue public acclaim. It can be a painful road.”

Rukia blinked. “It was really just for fun, Brother. I’m not really considering it as, you know, a career option.”

Byakuya looked relieved. “Ah. Good. I mean. Er.”

“I understand,” Rukia nodded. She remembered _very well_ the negative reviews of his one and only gallery exhibition: The Ambassador Abroad.

“Did Lieutenant Hisagi allow you to retain the originals?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes, actually, the Bulletin is very progressive about respecting creator rights.”

“If you would allow it, I would like to have them framed and displayed in my study.”

Rukia’s eyes went full sparkle. “Oh, Brother, of course! You liked it that much?”

“Of course,” Byakuya concurred stiffly. “The only thing that’s missing, Sister, is that brutish captain of theirs.”

“He never showed up,” Rukia explained.

Byakuya made a vague grasping gesture. “I just feel it would be truly sublime… were you to interpret him as, say… a stoat?”

“A hedgehog, for sure, Brother.”

Byakuya closed his eyes and shook his head, overcome by his sister’s genius. “Of course. Of course.”

“I can do that special, just for you.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Rukia beamed. "It would be my pleasure!"

* * *

"You busy tomorrow night? We need to meet up with Ikkaku to negotiate terms."

Rukia really wished Renji would at least pretend like he needed to pay attention when they were practicing at swordplay. "What kinda terms?" she asked, lunging toward him. "And who's 'we'?"

"Well, you're the one who's fighting him and I'm the one who's gonna get a face full of Senbonzakura if you two can't agree on a place to fight that's not the Eleventh." He hesitated for a moment. "You know you get a second, right?"

"I do?" Rukia echoed. "Squad 11 is that formal?"

"Well, they cheat a lot," Renji pointed out. "The main job of the second is to watch out for dirty pool and complain about it. Yumichika will be Ikkaku's for sure. Is there anyone--"

Rukia's brow furrowed. "What, you won't do it?"

Renji looked surprised. "I mean, of course I would, it just seemed like you didn't even want me to come, and--"

Rukia tried a low thrust, which he easily sidestepped. "I was just giving you a hard time, dummy, couldn't you tell? Of course I want you there." It bothered her a little, him respecting the things she said out loud instead what she had obviously _meant_. "You didn't think I was serious, did you?"

"I just...I didn't want to make assumptions." He made an extremely half-assed slash at her, which she deflected.

"Fine, then. Abarai Renji, former member of Squad 11, knower of many dirty tricks, and best friend in all of Soul Society, will you be my second?"

"I shall," he replied, grandiosely, but his expression softened, especially around the eyes.

Rukia needed to keep this from veering into sappy territory. Noting Renji's lazy stance, she thought she might surprise him, and launched into an attack combination from the Kuchiki sword form. She hadn't actually tried to use it on anyone yet, aside from practicing with Byakuya.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back with Renji's foot on her throat and her practice sword halfway across the room. "Was that strictly necessary?" she croaked.

Renji blinked at her owlishly for a second before realizing what he had done. He jumped back, and offered her a hand up. "Sorry about that. Did you just try to use Kuchiki Form 1 on me? That was a terrible idea."

"Why?" Rukia asked grumpily, shaking out her hand, which had gone half-numb.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. "For starters, based on how slow that was, the Captain still has you doing all the moves a hundred thousand times in a row, right?"

"Yes," Rukia grumbled.

"And I'm also guessing he hasn't bothered to tell you what the Kuchiki form is even good for."

"Uh...no." She frowned at him. "Stabbing people?"

Renji laughed. "Ah, I love you, Ru."

Rukia's cheeks burned. When had he started saying things like that so casually? He hadn't even noticed he'd said it, he was still blathering on about _sword forms._

"The moves, in and of themselves, aren't that great and are easily defended against, as you just found out. They're designed for _speed_. They flow together in such a way that they can be performed at that incredible speed you Kuchikis are famous for, all the way up into shunpo. That's why you gotta practice until it's instinctual-- no time to think, only run on auto."

Rukia's brow furrowed. That was so typical! Byakuya spending months teaching her something without ever bothering with the context. Renji cutting straight through to the heart of the matter. "Do you think I'll ever be fast enough to make it worthwhile? Given that I'm not a real Kuchiki?"

"We-ell," Renji drawled. "I'm not qualified to judge who's a Kuchiki and isn't, but you're certainly faster than a lot of 'em who've never questioned if they're fast enough, if you get my drift. I am sure you will be able to master it at speed. But Form 1 is only so good, y'see? I'm pretty sure I could beat your brother himself if he stuck to Form 1. That's when you gotta start pestering him into teaching you Form 2."

Rukia huffed in exasperation. "How do know all this anyway?"

Renji shrugged and ducked his head sheepishly. "I got a hundred and ninety-eight people whose skills I'm responsible for keepin' sharp and probably a third of 'em fight Kuchiki-style. It's my job to be meaner to them than anyone they meet out in the field."

"So, do you just know the first form, or do you know the second as well?" Rukia asked, half irritated at him and half impressed.

He held his hands up. "I don't know it! At least I don't use it! I have never, ever used a Kuchiki move against another person!"

Rukia frowned. "Relax, I'm not gonna rat you out. I was just curious."

A conspiratorial look came over his face. "The first two forms are pretty well documented in zanjutsu literature, and I know all the counters that are generally regarded as effective. The third form is kept close to the family, but I've watched your brother for a long time, and I _finally,_ just this week, pressed him into using it against me."

"Sounds like you have a hundred and ninety- _nine_ shinigami you're trying to keep on their toes."

Renji snorted. "I ain't here to help _him_ get better, I'm here to learn how to kick his ass."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I thought you were here to give me tips on how to beat your pal Madarame."

Renji's feral grin went slack. "Right. I am here for you. That's why-- yes."

Rukia jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "You're really weird sometimes."

"How's your hakuda?" he yelped.

"My hakuda? I'm great at hakuda. Why?"

From what Renji remembered, Rukia's unarmed combat skills mostly consisted of biting and eye-gouging, so he didn't entirely buy her claim, but he was willing to humor her for the moment. 

"The other part of the negotiation is that Ikkaku is going to insist you don't use kidou, and that includes your sword attacks. That puts you at a huge disadvantage, and frankly it's unfair."

"So you want me to fight him unarmed instead?"

"Depends on if you're any good at it."

Almost faster than his eyes could follow, she kicked the practice sword out of his hand. He managed to get his other arm up in time to block the punch that followed it, and the blow jarred straight up into his shoulder. His battle nerves took over, and his body flooded with reiatsu just in time to grab the fist that came flying at his face. Rukia planted her feet on his chest and flung herself backwards, out of his grasp.

A flicker of hope glimmered in his chest as they started trading blows in earnest. He didn't have much time to think about it, though, since he wasn't too interested in getting his ribs kicked in. Rukia wasn't fibbing, for once. She moved like lightning and hit like a battering ram. We must have done this on the mission, he realized, because he, too, was better at this than he should be; he was blocking and dodging far more of her blows than he had any right to. In fact, they hadn't been so evenly matched at anything since they were kids, scuffling in the dirt over some inconsequential slight. Ikkaku is gonna love this, he realized, and started pressing her back.

They were sweating and grinning and the air was chokingly thick with reiatsu when he noticed an opening and swung at her with his right arm. If it had been his left, Renji would have done the same as any decent hakuda practitioner and flexed the reiatsu ducts in his arm to create a bypass and supercharge the blow, like firing the afterburners of a jet engine. Unfortunately for him, Renji had ablated those delicate passages into a single open channel during a childhood accident. It was a disability he had learned to work around and he was as surprised as anyone when his hindbrain took it upon itself to instead vent his reiatsu out his saketsu in the form of raw kidou.

Rukia's eyes went wide, and as her arms came up to block the blow, her own back flared with spiritual energy and frigid swirls of it engulfed her arms.

Renji jumped back, shaking ice off his fist. 

They stared at each other, kosodes in shreds, backs flaming.

"Umm," said Renji.

"Hmm," replied Rukia, examining her arms.

There was a pounding of feet outside, and then Sentarou and Kiyone piled into the dojo.

"Is, uh, everything okay in here?" Kiyone managed, her eyes flicking between them nervously.

"Captain felt that clear over in the offices," Sentarou added, averting his eyes from the sight of his future vice-captain's bare shoulders.

"We're, uh, great," Rukia said casually trying to cross her kidou engulfed arms and then settling for putting her hands on her hips instead.

"Very normal," Renji added. "Just doing a little hakuda. Like you do."

"Do you need to borrow a shirt?" Sentarou offered awkwardly. "You're not that much taller than me."

"Ditto, you, Rukia," Kiyone echoed.

"That would be great," Renji and Rukia replied in unison.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Are we going to the Sixth, Brother?” Rukia asked nervously.

“I keep telling you, Rukia, it is a surprise.”

A surprise. Great. As usual, things were coming out topsy-turvy. Why couldn’t Byakuya have surprises for her on nights when she _wasn’t_ scheduled to meet Madarame in some shady bar? At least their appointment wasn’t until late-- Renji also had some early evening commitment he couldn’t get out of. Also, what sort of weird surprise required her to wear a nice kimono to go to the Sixth Division?

Byakuya led her into the Squad Meeting Hall. There seemed to be some sort of event going on-- there were chairs and tables set up, and a snack table with what looked like a pretty decent spread. The hall was already pretty full-- most of the people she recognized were members of Squad 6, although she did recognize a scattering of people from other divisions. Was that Lieutenant Kira? She didn’t see Renji, though. 

“Welcome, sir, glad you could make it!” someone greeted Byakuya. “Ah, is Lady Rukia gracing us with her presence tonight?” 

“Indeed, Ohno, I thought she would enjoy it.”

Ohno (Rukia couldn’t keep any of the Ohnos straight aside from that pompous Third Seat), bowed to her. “Ah! I hope she does. I’ll let Taniguchi know!”

“Sixth Seat Taniguchi organizes this event,” Byakuya explained, as they sat at a table that was clearly for the captain-- it offered the best view of the raised dais on the other side of the hall, but no one else was seated there.

Wasn’t Taniguchi the one with the ridiculous poetry zanpakutou? It didn’t have set attacks, but he had to constantly make them up on the fly, in the form of poems? Renji was the most hopeless optimist she had ever met when it came to training people, but even he was at a loss with that guy.

Wait.

Oh, no. 

It was Thursday. It was the third Thursday of the month.

Rukia knew where she was.

Oh, no, no, no.

“Do you wish a beverage?” Byakuya was asking. “I prefer to be settled before things get started.”

“I’m good,” Rukia said stiffly. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe…

Sixth Seat Taniguchi stepped out onto the dais and there was a roar of cheers. “Welcome!” he announced. “To Squad Six Poetry Night!”

Rukia mouthed the dirtiest word she knew.

“We have a number of special treats tonight,” Taniguchi said cheerfully. “The first of which is that our beloved vice-captain is back with us after his long remote mission.” He waved off to the side, and Renji strode onto the dais with him to an even louder chorus of enthusiasm. 

Between Byakuya’s refusal to ever say anything nice about him, and the complaints she heard from her bitchier Squad 6 cousins, Rukia sometimes worried that Renji wasn’t sufficiently appreciated by his subordinates. Rukia’s heart warmed at this evidence to the contrary-- it was clear that the division had a lot of love for their assistant captain. She glanced over at Byakuya, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and just a trace of a smile on his face. He said nothing.

“Now, as our regular attendees know, Lieutenant Abarai is generally excused from poetry activities, as long as he provides us with the presence of that poetry superstar himself, acclaimed author of _I Want To Apologize to You_ , and _Kira Izuru’s Haiku Time_ : Lieutenant Kira of the Third Division!”

Renji shot twin finger-guns at Kira, who waved and smiled while the crowd went _bananas_. Rukia wasn’t sure she had ever seen Kira smile before. She had definitely not expected Poetry Night to be so _rowdy_.

Taniguchi was cheerfully trying to calm the crowd down. “But-- but--” he tried to get everyone’s attention again. “I told him how much we all missed his particular artistic stylings and he has agreed to kick off tonight’s festivities with the opening poem.” This time, there was a combination of cheers and jeers and vague, poetry-based trash talk. Rukia’s eyes darted to Byakuya, who seemed to be taking this all in with a look of vague amusement. “Because he’s so tall, I told him he could do a short one. Take it away, Lieutenant Abarai!”

With greatly exaggerated motions for comedic effect, Renji fumbled around in his kosode and pulled out a small slip of paper. He unfolded it and loudly cleared his throat. 

_“Listen up Squad 6!_

_You guys have been slacking off_

_Never skip leg day.”_

This was received with a great deal of laughter and general enthusiasm. Renji waved and hopped off the dais to go sit with Kira.

Rukia’s eyes swiveled to Byakuya again, who was actually _smiling_. A _real smile_.

“I have no idea if he is a genius of comedic poetry or just an idiot with no sense of shame,” Byakuya mused. 

“I am sure that uncertainty adds to the overall effect,” Rukia commented dryly.

“Indeed,” Byakuya agreed.

“My second announcement,” Taniguchi continued. “Is that we have a very special guest tonight! Please give a warm Poetry Night welcome to friend of Squad 6 and sister of our eminent captain, the lovely Lady Kuchiki Rukia!”

Rukia felt all the blood rush to her face. She waved nervously, trying to shrink down into her kimono. She glanced around the room and her eyes locked with Renji’s. All the blood seemed to have rushed _out_ of his face, he looked pale and horrified. He hadn’t known she was here. She offered him a grin that looked a lot like rigor mortis.

Fortunately, the excitement level of Squad Six Poetry Night fell off dramatically after that. Apparently, as Byakuya explained to her breathlessly, it had a very standard format with four portions. The first segment involved composing a chouka, a long poem, on a topic that had been announced the previous month. This was the most serious segment, and held the most glory for the victor. Furthermore, there was long-running drama between various competitors, and the poems often involved call-backs from previous months poems, or perhaps even poems of their arch-nemeses. Byakuya would try to fill her in on this allegedly hot gossip between entrants. Naturally, he would never interrupt a performance. He explained that he would occasionally participate in this segment, if he felt moved by the topic, although he exempted himself from being judged. Today’s topic was the thrilling _calligraphy_ , so of course, he had prepared a little something.

How could anyone write poetry about calligraphy? Calligraphy was the second worst part of writing poetry, the worst part being actually coming up with the poetry. Rukia felt like her brain was melting and dripping out her ear. 

She looked over at Renji; surely he must be having a worse time here than her. He actually looked like he was having a hard time not laughing, and then she realized that Kira kept leaning over and whispering things to him, probably extremely snide remarks about the poems. Dammit, she wanted to sit next to Kira.

Things picked up in the second segment, which was apparently _competitive._ Furthermore, tonight was some sort of big deal, because Kira was throwing down against Taniguchi. The topic of this segment was apparently _complaining_ , which Rukia could really get behind. Kira started off, composing a few lines of verse about the futility of trying to complete one’s paperwork in the face of lazy underlings. Taniguchi then responded with a stanza about an unpleasable lieutenant constantly nitpicking his reports. Kira replied with a lament that the rank-and-file didn’t appreciate the lengths he went to on their behalf. Taniguchi shot back that the top brass was out of touch with the men on the front lines.

She wasn’t sure if it was the topic or the delivery-- the normally morose Kira delivered his lines with an air of sly superiority and an uncharacteristic cockiness. With a jolt she remembered that she had seen him like this before--when they were all so impossibly young, and he and Renji would pompously trash talk as the prelude to beating the snot out of each other. Kira lost more often than not at the pummeling, but he always won the posturing.

The crowd seemed generally for Taniguchi, perhaps out of Squad Six solidarity, or because he was representing the position of the working man. Kira seemed to be perfectly happy to take the villain’s stance, welcoming the boos and jeers as his own verses edged into more and more hyperbolic territory. 

“Who are you cheering for?” she whispered to Byakuya.

“Lieutenant Kira is the superior poet,” Byakuya replied. “Did you hear the way he subverted the line from Taniguchi’s chouka in the earlier round? Hysterical.”

“Side-splitting,” Rukia agreed, having no idea what he was talking about.

“And of course, I would take the side of the superior officer,” Byakuya added. “Although I believe he is purposely setting himself up as a comedic foil by drawing certain elements of his character from Squad Six’s own adjutant.”

“You mean he’s making fun of Renji?”

“It’s very subtle.”

“Look at the state of the gym!/These weights are unracked!”

“It’s not that subtle,” Rukia replied.

* * *

  
  


The third round was Open Poetry, in which anyone could present any sort of poetry they were working on. After the third ode to the honor of the Kuchiki, Rukia leaned over to Byakuya and informed him that she would be fetching a beverage. As she wobbled to her feet, her legs having mostly fallen asleep, she saw Renji hop up as well. Good to know his mind-reading capabilities were as strong as ever.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, as she took her sweet time considering the tea selections.

"Brother tricked me into coming," she replied under her breath. "You want to run away and go storm Las Noches with me again?"

"In a hot second," he replied. "But we gotta meet Ikkaku at 10."

Rukia settled on ginger. "Is this disaster gonna be over by then?"

"The one nice thing about Poetry Night is that it ends _precisely_ at nine. Squad Six respects your time."

Rukia considered this. "It'll be tight, walking home with Brother and then sneaking back out again."

"I always buy Kira a drink after this shitshow. Your brother strongly approves of Kira for roughly twenty-four to forty-eight hours following a Poetry Night. Just tell him we invited you along." Renji frowned. "We usually pre-game, too, but we didn't tonight because of our Poetry Obligations, and we're both really regretting it."

"Me three," Rukia scowled. "Tell Kira his poem battle was awesome, though."

"I will," Renji promised. "I like it when he does that. Reminds me of the good ol' days."

"If that's what they were," Rukia snorted.

"Take some of these cookies, too," Renji suggested, putting an enormous handful on his plate. "They're really good."

"I will if you leave me some."

"Hang in there, Ru." He squinted at the stage. "Rikichi's gonna recite some damn thing about oak trees, and then there's only one more part after that."

* * *

  
  


This was turning out to be an excellent Poetry Night, in Byakuya's opinion. The last few had been somewhat subdued, and it was good to see the men feeling their oats. In fact, Poetry Night had once been a very staid affair, generally. Byakuya had initially linked the increased enthusiasm to the participation of Abarai's celebrity wunderkind friend, but perhaps it had something to do with Abarai himself. It didn’t follow, though, since the man didn’t even participate most of the time, he just _showed up_ and was _a good sport_. Poetry was a serious matter, in Byakuya’s opinion, but there was something to be said for _enthusiasm_ , especially since it seemed to correlate with attendance. 

The Open Poetry round sometimes offered a glimpse at the work of a master, but for the most part, it was strictly amateur hour. Abarai always said he should have more patience with the unskilled, that some took longer journeys than others, and you never knew who would eventually achieve greatness. Abarai was always full of nonsense like that.

Take this young man, who had been sharing his wretched compositions about trees for nearly a year now. Byakuya had become hopeful when he appeared to be innovating-- he'd spent the last several months waxing about _willows_ instead of oaks, but tonight he was comparing the willows _to_ the oaks. 

Rukia returned with a cup of tea and an undignified amount of cookies. "Is this a metaphor?" she whispered.

"If so, it is beyond my comprehension," he replied. "You have taken too many cookies."

"We can share," she replied.

"You know I do not care for sweets," he replied, taking one anyway.

Byakuya was well aware of the fact that Rukia did not care for poetry, but here she was. He wasn't entirely sure why he had decided to subject her to this. He had no illusions that she was going to change her mind. She had said she wanted to spend time with him, and this is how he spent his time, perhaps it was as simple as that. The fact that he had brought her here on the night Abarai had agreed to display his ineptitude at lyrical expression was just a _bonus_.

"Thank you, Squad Member Yuki!" Taniguchi finally said, waving Rikichi off the stage. “It is now time for the Challenge Round of our February Poetry Night. I will issue a topic, and all competitors will have 30 minutes to compose a tanka on the topic. We will then have 30 minutes of recitations.”

Rukia breathed out. Byakuya regarded her out of the corner of his eye, and then stole another of her cookies.

“Originally, the topic for tonight was going to be ‘root vegetables’, but in light of our special guest, the judges and I have decided that instead, the prompt for the challenge round shall be our own beloved cousin, Lady Kuchiki Rukia!”

Byakuya blinked. He had not expected this. It was a lovely idea, very thoughtful of Taniguchi. This should be very easy, of course. He knew his sister well. He could easily think of a dozen metaphors that would encapsulate her finer qualities.

What could be easier than composing verse about a person close to one’s heart?

_"Look, would you please stop...packing things up? I have something to tell you."_

_"If we make good time today, we can be back in Rukongai by nightfall. Aren't you getting a bit tired of sleeping in a respirator?"_

_As if he'd slept at all the night before._

_"I need to say this. I need to say this right now." Once they got back to the bare fringes of civilization, if they saw even one other person, he felt like the spell would be broken. The gap between them would be too far to bridge. She would slip through his fingers, and he would go back to his boring, stuffy life, forever haunted by the memory of this amazing person, the likes of whom he would never meet again._

_"Then say it while you stow your bedroll."_

_His gloved hands fumbled as he tried to unfold the paper. He wished he could have just memorized it, but he worried about the words flying from his head._

_"Searching for beauty,_

_In the jungles of the Wastes," he began._

_She froze, her pack dropping from her hands. Her face was wrapped nose-to-chin in her scarf, but he could see the horror in her eyes. "Stop. Shut up. You have got to be shitting me, Rich Boy._ _I_ know _you did not just write me a damn_ poem."

Byakuya glanced over at Rukia. She was making exactly the same face her sister had made.

  
  


* * *

Renji gripped his head. “Why is this _happening_?”

“You know, just because you trained for forty years to get in this division, it’s not like your decision to join the Sixth was in any way _well thought out_ ,” Izuru, who had never in his entire life been helpful, replied. 

“Shut up,” Renji groaned, crumpling up another piece of paper. 

“The difficult thing,” Izuru pointed out, “is the audience. I could compose any number of poems about Kuchiki Rukia, but I’m not about to recite them out loud in front of her entire family.” He casually tossed a slip of paper on top of Renji’s own. “For example.”

_I don’t know her well_

_The girl who was adopted_

_A friend of a friend._

_The way that he speaks of her_

_Something precious has been lost_

“Dammit, Kira!” Renji cursed. “Did you just write this? In, like, a minute? What the hell, man? Also, this isn’t about her, it’s about… you know what it’s about!”

Kira started scribbling again. 

Renji glanced back at Rukia, who looked like she was trying to get Byakuya to destroy the entire hall with Senbonzakura on her behalf. Byakuya seemed busy with his own poem. Surely she hated this. She was going to hate it even more once she had to sit through twenty odes to her inky black hair and indigo eyes. Rukia didn’t want poems about herself, she wanted to best her enemies in battle. He looked at Izuru’s poem again. Maybe a poem that wasn’t actually about her wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Here, I wrote one for you,” Izuru said, shoving over another slip of paper.

“What the-- how did you do that so fast?”

_Her language is coarse_

_Her handwriting is wretched_

_Her sword is deadly_

_A lady in name only_

_And that is why I love her_

Renji punched Izuru in the shoulder. “ _Fuck you_.”

“I bet you are the only person to ever say that in the history of Squad Six Poetry Night.”

Renji grabbed both the poems and stuffed them in his kosode. Just because they were _utterly inappropriate_ didn’t mean they weren’t also _extremely good_ and also _true_. “Write your own damn poem, you shithead. Write something about her sword, she’ll like that.”

“Why don’t you? And spare me the Inuzuri dumbass act, Hisagi told me he sold out the entire print run of this week's Bulletin.”

Renji grimaced. “I just tell it like it is, I can’t write flowery shit. It’ll come out dumb and I’ll embarrass her. The only reason I participate in these things is because Taniguchi lets me write dumb bro poems and the squad gets to have a harmless chuckle at the expense of their meathead lieutenant and it’s good for morale. This isn’t fair.”

“Then don’t write one. This round is voluntary.”

“I said I would, and if I drop out, don’t you think it will look a little weird that I refused to write a poem about my own best friend? At least the captain wouldn’t think much of it, since he already thinks I’m a moron.” He frowned. “Also, I… kinda want to? Who else here is actually going to write her one that she’ll like?”

Izuru shot him a soft look. “You _are_ a moron, Abarai. It’s why we love you.”

* * *

  
  


_That famed pure white blade_

_A winter wind forged in steel_

_Cold and merciless_

_I have not seen it myself_

_Only heard the fearsome tales_

For the first time since this hideous spectacle began, Rukia smiled. If she ever heard about her alabaster skin or elfin stature again, it would be too soon.

Lieutenant Kira winked at her, gave a deep bow, and hopped off the dais.

Rukia glanced over at Renji, who also winked at her. It wasn’t a poem about her zanpakutou. It was a poem about how Renji tirelessly bragged about her to all his friends. Kira really was a damn good poet. Not too shabby of a friend, for that matter.

Byakuya was mounting the stage now. Rukia clenched her fists nervously. She honestly had no clue what direction this was going to go.

_“The first frost arrives_

_The daikon is not bothered_

_It thrives in cold ground_

_Its leaves obscured by the snow_

_The white radish grows deep roots”_

She...had no idea what that meant. Not a friggin’ clue. Byakuya regarded her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed back. It didn’t matter if she didn’t get his poem, he had written it for her. Kuchiki Byakuya had written a poem about her, and she was going to hold that in her heart forever.

As he blithely stepped off the stage, he was replaced by his own lieutenant. 

Rukia blinked. She’d seen Renji scribbling frantically, but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe he would actually come up with anything. She realized with horror that he was either going to say something stupidly funny about bench pressing her, or he was going to absolutely rip her heart out. She would take another three hours of poetry about her “violet orbs” over listening to herself described by one of the very few people in either world who actually _knew_ her.

“Well, _someone_ had to go on after the captain,” Renji joked.

“You’re the last one, Assistant Captain,” Taniguchi ribbed back. “Make it good.”

Renji stood up straight, closed his eyes, and tucked his arms behind his back.

_“I’m not a poet_

_I can't tell you fancy lies_

_I’m just a soldier_

_But there is one thing I know_

_That girl will run you straight through”_

Byakuya had returned to his place, but remained standing while Renji recited his poem. Rukia's brother narrowed his eyes and made a face like he _might actually_ be having an emotion.

Rukia felt like her lungs had stopped working. She was going to die, here at Squad Six Poetry Night, slain by the man who was either the worst or the best poet in Soul Society.

Renji opened his eyes. “Any member of Squad Six who didn’t write a poem about Lady Rukia owes me 10 laps around Training Field 4 first thing tomorrow morning! Anyone who _did_ owes me twenty!”

Thus ended Poetry Night.

* * *

  
  


“I thought we were going to Fukushima’s,” Izuru said suspiciously. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“Fukushima’s is too nice, Rukia doesn’t like it,” Renji replied.

“That’s not true!” Rukia protested. 

“So where are we going?”

“Five Fingers of Death.”

“Abarai!”

“Five Fingers of Death is a good bar,” Renji pointed out.

“In the sense that they have four walls and a roof and you can get drunk inside. Why are we going to Squad 11’s bar?”

“Rukia has some negotiations to make.”

Izuru rubbed his face with his hands. “I cannot believe that after forty years, a noble adoption, a botched execution, bankai, a civil war, and a road trip to Hueco Mundo, you two are _exactly the same_. You have not changed _a bit._ ”

“I have more tattoos now,” Renji pointed out at the same time Rukia said,

“I know how to play the shamisen now.”

“I didn’t know that!” Renji exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t say I could play it _well_.”

Izuru eyed her. “Did you ever learn to sing?”

Rukia gave him a funny look back. “Well enough. Why do you ask?”

Izuru shrugged. “You always had a nice voice. Seemed like you’d be a good singer with a few lessons."

Rukia felt her cheeks go pink. “I don’t, uh, have much occasion. Hey, you did a really good job in that poem fight! Brother said you were ‘the superior poet’.”

Izuru chuckled. “It was a good match. When I’m a captain, I might try to steal Taniguchi. I think he has potential.”

“He’s a nice guy, doin’ his best with a weird-ass zanpakutou,” Renji agreed. “If you can get him to lieutenant, more power to you.”

“I also liked the poem you wrote for me,” Rukia said, a little more quietly. 

Izuru gave her a pleasant smile. “You were a _very_ good sport about the whole ordeal.” His eyes darted to Renji, who happened to be looking the other way.

“His was okay, too,” Rukia mumbled.

Renji turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised and a soft smile on his lips.

Izuru looked back and forth between them, making an impatient face.

“You two should--” Izuru started.

“I wrote one about you, back,” Rukia interrupted.

“I want to hear it!” Renji shouted excitedly.

Izuru closed his eyes. He had forgotten how much of hanging out with Renji and Rukia was just _shouting_.

Rukia cleared her throat.

“ _Abarai Renji_

_How did he make vice-captain?_

_He’s a massive doof._

_l’ll drink him into the ground_

_And steal all his belongings”_

“I love it,” Renji declared. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said about me.”

“What do you think, poetry boy?” Rukia asked, jerking her head at Izuru.

“I want to hate it and I can’t. If you ever publish an anthology of dirtbag poetry, please allow me to write the introduction.”

“Deal.” Rukia pursed her lips. “Look, do either of you guys have any idea what Brother’s poem was about?”

“I thought it was about you,” Izuru replied.

“I thought it was about radishes,” Renji admitted.

“Well, I mean, yes, it was about both those things, _I guess_ , but what did it _mean?_ Are the radishes symbolic?”

Izuru frowned thoughtfully. “Daikon are associated with good fortune, I suppose. They can sometimes symbolize the sense of self? The long growth beneath the earth?”

“I think he got mixed up,” Renji opined. “The original topic was root vegetables. That was definitely a poem about root vegetables.”

“He did not get mixed up, _you’re_ mixed up,” Rukia sniffed.

“There was a lot in there about cold and self-sacrifice, which I would think might be representative of yourself, Rukia,” Izuru went on.

“Daikon tastes good pickled.” Renji was being purposely obnoxious now.

“Stop interrupting, you ass, Kira is…” Rukia trailed off and held her hand in front of him so he would stop walking. “Renji.” 

Renji was suddenly serious. “What is it?”

“Do you know how to make pickles?”

Izuru stopped a few steps ahead, and stared back at them. "Pickles?"

Renji rolled his eyes upwards, thinking hard. “Yes. I do.”

Rukia grabbed the front of his kosode. “Make me pickles. Spicy pickles. The spiciest pickles.”

“You need a, a, like a rice bran bath. The pickle juice. It’s got organisms in it. I don’t know how to make one from scratch.”

“Captain Unohana makes amazing pickles,” Izuru noted. “You could probably get some nukadoko from her. Since when do you know how to make pickles?”

“No,” Renji shook his head. “No way. Get Kira to make you pickles. Or go buy your pickles from the store like a normal rich person.”

“I don’t know how to make pickles,” Izuru protested. "How did we start talking about pickles anyway?"

“You know what the stuff is called!” Renji scratched his head. "Sometimes Rukia an' I start remembering stuff, and if we don't say it out loud, we just forget it again." He frowned. "You remembered something about pickles?"

"No, you just mentioned them and I love pickles and everything you make is really good."

Izuru squinted at Renji. "Everything you make…?"

"Yeah, I cook now, it's very normal and not a big deal."

“No, you don’t.” Izuru shook his head. “You were just asking Hisagi to teach you to cook. You can’t tell me--”

“Oh, you asked him?” Rukia interrupted.

“Yeah, we haven’t done it yet, though, been too busy. Been sticking to noodles in the meantime.” He turned back to Izuru. “I just need Hisagi’s help with rice. I know how to cook plenty of other stuff.”

“That doesn’t even make sense! How can you not know how to make rice?”

“Renji.”

Renji looked down. Rukia was making incredibly sad eyes at him. He made a little choking noise in his throat for a moment before he managed to regain control of his voice. “Don’t. Do that. That’s unfair, that’s what that is.”

Rukia stuck out her lower lip, just the tiniest bit.

Renji cringed. “Look, if you win your fight against Ikkaku, I’ll make you pickles, got it?”

“I will win, for pickles.”

“Your _what_?” Izuru exclaimed.

* * *

It was a pretty good entrance, a 4’9” woman in a lavender kimono stomping into Squad 11’s favorite watering hole, trailing two vice-captains, even if one of them was wearing a facial expression that said he very much wished to be removed from this narrative.

Rukia walked up to Ikkaku’s table and glared down at him.

He regarded her with lidded eyes. “Yer early.”

“I can go have a few drinks and come back if you need a while to collect yourself,” she sneered.

“Sit,” said Ikkaku. He poured her a saucer of sake and slid it across the table.

Rukia downed it wordlessly. 

Izuru made a mildly disgusted face. He’d had the sake here before.

“Why you dressed so fuckin’ fancy?” Ikkaku snarled.

“Because I have respect for myself, what’s your problem?”

“Oh, _damn_!” Yumichika exclaimed.

Ikkaku spun and glared at him. “Whose second are you, anyway?”

“My ‘oh damns’ go to the sickest burns, they are beyond loyalty,” Yumichika sniffed. “And it honestly wouldn’t kill you to doll up a little before we go out.” He surveyed Rukia’s companions. “Abarai, you are using a new dry shampoo and I want to know everything. Also, your pores are looking much better, gold star. Kira… mmm… we’ll talk.” Renji’s eyebrow inched up smugly. Izuru’s eye twitched.

“Save this crap for your own time, Yumichika, I’m doin’ business here," Ikkaku interrupted.

“Hakuda,” Rukia intoned.

Ikkaku leaned forward and poured her more sake. “Hakuda?”

Rukia downed her second drink and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. “If we allow kidou, it would unfairly advantage me. In a pure swordfight, the edge would go to you. I propose we settle this the old-fashioned way: with our fists.”

“What do you think you’re gonna do to me with those tiny little hands of yours?”

“All the better to jam one up your--”

“ _What_ is going on over here?” Matsumoto Rangiku shoved her way in between Rukia and Izuru. Hisagi Shuuhei plopped down on Izuru’s other side. 

“No press,” Rukia growled.

“This is off the record!” Shuuhei promised.

“Fine,” Ikkaku agreed. “Bare knuckles. Just remember, you asked for it. No swords, no kidou.”

“No chanted kidou.”

“No… what? What’s the fucking difference?”

“If she’s specifying, it won’t do you any good,” Yumichika noted, studying his fingernails. “Say no.”

“No.”

“Coward,” Rukia scowled.

"Fightin’s fightin’. Spells are spells. No kidou.”

Rukia’s nose wrinkled. No shunkou, then.

“What about shunpo?”

“Do you even know shunpo? Aren’t you unseated?”

“Hmm,” Rukia sighed theatrically. “Guess that’s for you to find out. Unless you want to put it off limits.”

“She is a Kuchiki,” Yumichika reminded Ikkaku. "They're known for their speed, among other things."

“Whatever. She’s bluffing because she doesn’t want _me_ to use shunpo. It’s in.”

“You’re not exactly--”

“I said, it’s in!”

Rangiku threw her arm around Izuru’s shoulders. “This is intense. Fill me in.”

“I guess… Rukia is fighting Ikkaku? I was brought here under false pretenses. Why are you asking me? Go bother Abarai, he’s her second.”

“I’m busy,” Renji scowled. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at Ikkaku.

“Busy doing _what_?”

“Looking intimidating.”

“Next topic! Location!” Rukia barked.

“The Eleventh.”

"The Thirteenth."

“What's wrong with the Eleventh?”

“I’ve been banned from the Eleventh.”

“Daaaamn!” Hisagi noted.

“You’ve been… what?” Ikkaku echoed. “Well, I don’t want to do it on _your_ home turf! How am I supposed to mangle you with your super-nice captain coughing and smiling at me?” His eyes slid over to her second. “How about the Sixth?”

“The training grounds of the Sixth are for official Sixth Division business only, unless you fill out Form TG3709-J at least four weeks--”

“Shut the fuck up, Abarai.”

“You should do it down at the common fields!” Rangiku suggested. “More people will come that way!”

Ikkaku sneered. “What do you think of that, Fancypants? Willing to let anyone who wants to show up for your humiliating defeat?”

“Witness my glory, more like. You’re on. Matsumoto, tell everyone you know.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Renji informed her under his breath.

“Go get me more sake, Abarai.”

“Yes’m.” 

“Get something not-too-rough for Kira, too, you promised him!” she called over her shoulder.

Izuru rubbed his hands over his face.

"If Rangiku is inviting everyone, does that mean--"

"NO. PRESS," Rukia enunciated.

"You can't forbid me from covering a public event."

Rukia frowned, and turned toward Shuuhei, plopping one elbow on the table. "Look, it's just a fight. You wouldn't cover it if it were Renji fighting Ikkaku, would you? Especially if he asked you not to?"

"Renji isn't the first daughter of the Kuchiki," Shuuhei returned. 

"I'm not doing this as the first daughter of the Kuchiki, I'm doing this as a girl with two fists who loves punching assholes," Rukia pointed out.

Ikkaku chuckled.

"I mean, I see your point, but you're a public figure. A lot of people would be very interested to find out the first daughter of the Kuchiki is also a--"

"--foul-mouthed hothead who solves her problems with violence?" Renji suggested, plunking some sake down in front of Izuru. "What did I miss?"

"We're negotiating press coverage now," Yumichika filled him in. "I'm for it. Make sure I get to be in any photographs."

"Whatever, who gives a shit," Ikkaku groaned. "As long as Kuchiki isn't doing the illustrations again."

"Lay off, Shuuhei," Renji said gently, sitting down next to Rukia and pouring her a drink. "Unless you want her brother to murder the both of us."

“What happened to getting better than that guy?” Ikkaku demanded. “What’d I spend all that time training your sorry ass for?”

"I'm _working_ on it."

Izuru took a sip of his sake. His mouth abruptly went numb.

"Look," Renji pointed out. "Surely you owe me a favor."

Everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Rukia looked around, confused. "Why is everyone laughing?"

"Because every person in the Gotei 13 owes Renji between nine and nine hundred favors, and he's never going to see payback on any of them," Rangiku explained.

"I used to let you ride my motorbike," Shuuhei protested.

"Yeah, 'cause when you first got it, you didn't know how to drive it and I was the only one dumb enough to try! I was also the one who figured out how to change the oil in that thing _and_ I helped you fix it every time it broke down, which was constantly."

"I miss the motorbike," Izuru sighed.

There were several nods of agreement.

"Pour one out for the motorbike," Renji announced. Everyone drank.

"I have done legitimate favors for Abarai," Yumichika sniffed, when they had finished. "I saved his terrible cuticles. I taught him the importance of daily moisturizing. I identified his undertones--"

"Can we stop talking about this?" Renji groaned.

"I taught him how to kiss properly!" Rangiku pointed out gleefully.

Renji lunged across the table at her.

Rukia blinked, and then downed her drink in one go.

"That wasn't a favor to _him_ , that was a favor to everyone _else_ ," Shuuhei hooted, and there was another round of raucous laughter.

Renji, who had Rangiku in a headlock, tried to kick Shuuhei and nearly hit Izuru instead.

Izuru scooted in a little. "So, given that Renji-favors have been established as valueless, would you let the story go for a _Rukia_ favor?"

"I don't do favors!" Rukia declared.

"What kind of favor?" Shuuhei asked, intrigued.

"Did you know that she sings? And plays the shamisen?"

" _Really_?"

"Oh, _fuck_ , no!"

* * *

  
  


"Well, that could have gone better," Rukia grumbled, as Renji walked her home. Izuru was headed home with Rangiku and Shuuhei, but exactly who was going to whose home had been unclear.

"It could have gone worse," Renji pointed out. "We got shunpo. That was the most important thing."

"No shunkou, though."

"I know. You would have slaughtered him with that."

Rukia sighed. "I dunno. Maybe it's better not to have it. I've only been able to do it for a day, and I don't actually remember learning it. I'm sure it would end up biting me in the ass."

"Since when have you ever let that stop you?"

Rukia snorted. "C'mon, I'm bad, but I’m not Ichigo."

Renji snorted back. "Good thing, 'cause I ain't Inoue." His joking smile turned briefly panicked. “For the healing part.”

“What other part could you have possibly meant?” Rukia frowned at him. 

Renji blew some air out his cheeks. “Ah, well, you know. I’m not your... And she’s sort of his… um…” He stared off into the night sky for a moment. “Do you think he’s asked her out yet?”

Rukia rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Oh. He should ask her out, in my opinion.”

“Of course he should! That’s the only correct opinion!” Now it was Rukia’s turn to be silent for a moment. Something had happened at the bar that was weighing on her. "There was never anything between me an' Ichigo, you know," she finally blurted out.

"What?" Renji echoed.

"I mean, obviously there was _something_ between us, I gave him my powers and he stormed the Seireitei for me, but there was nothing _romantic_ ," Rukia tried to clarify, dimly aware that she was actually just babbling. "I never _kissed_ him or anything. Everyone thinks I did, and I didn't, not that I give a shit what people think."

"Why are you telling me this?" Renji asked slowly.

Rukia chewed her lower lip. “Because you said the other day that you didn’t want to talk about the past, and honestly, I couldn't care less if you used to date Matsumoto, that’s none of my business, but I _know_ now, and that doesn’t seem fair, and I just… thought maybe I should tell you something about me. For fairness.”

Renji looked at her for a long time. "That was nice of you,” he finally said. “And I appreciate the thought. I never dated Matsumoto, though."

At first, Rukia was confused, and then it sank in. "Oh." 

Renji looked away. They were crossing the bridge over the canal that ran between the Eighth and Ninth Divisions, and you could see the lights of downtown Seireitei pretty well from here. He turned back. “Look. Ru. You’re right. I do not want to tell you this. I would very much like you to not know anything about the Rich Tapestry that is my sexual history, except that now you've started hanging out with my friends and they're huge dicks and I just…don't want you to be blindsided. That wasn't very fair to you. So here it is: There was a while, ‘round the time I joined Squad 11, when I used to really get around."

There was something about the turn of phrase or perhaps the utter seriousness with which he said it, but Rukia couldn't help herself-- she guffawed.

"C'mon!" Renji protested. "I'm bein' serious!"

"Who cares!" Rukia hooted back. "Good for you!"

Renji made a pained face. "It wasn't, though, it sucked. I had stopped speaking to Izuru and Momo, I had just transferred squads and I was lonely, so I just...started hooking up with whoever was handy. It was fucking stupid."

Rukia’s stomach twisted with the familiarity of what he described. Very quickly, she reached out, and grabbed his hand. She gave it a quick squeeze, and then withdrew again. "If it makes you feel any better," she said slowly, "I slept around a little bit, too."

"You did not," he protested.

"Nobles are slutty as hell, Renji! I coulda slept around a lot more if I'd wanted to. You're right, it didn't help much. I ended up casual friends with most of those girls, so maybe it wasn’t a total waste but …whatever. It's past." She side-eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked a little poleaxed. "What's that face for?" she scolded him. "You knew I like both boys and girls, same as you!"

Renji made a choking noise. "I suspected. I didn't know that you knew. About me."

"If you've ever tried to hide it, you've done a terrible job," Rukia pointed out.

"What's the point in ever trying to hide anything from you?" he sighed, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"Exactly," she agreed.

He took a deep breath. “Well. Since you know _that_ , there’s one more thing I should probably tell you.”

“Only if you want to.”

“It...comes up from time to time. After I stopped sleeping with strangers and stuck to sleeping with my friends, I, uh, I did have one longer term relationship.”

For some reason, that idea stung Rukia’s heart more than the idea of a thousand meaningless hook-ups. Which was dumb! she scolded herself, why wouldn’t she want Renji to have been happy? “Yeah?” she prompted.

“Yeah. One day it was pointed out to me that I had stopped sleeping around, and that I was mostly just… sleeping with Shuuhei. And that he, uh, already thought we were boyfriends."

" _It was pointed out to you_?" Rukia echoed.

"Aw, you know me! I'm a dunderhead about these things. I mean, to be honest, if he had just asked me in the first place, I probably woulda freaked out and run away. But as it was, I realized I kinda liked being boyfriends with him, so we kept it up for awhile."

Rukia smiled fondly at him. "You’re such a dumbass." She thought for a moment, trying to imagine Renji having a relationship with the lieutenant of the Ninth. She honestly didn’t know him very well-- she knew he ran the newspaper. She’d heard him sing. He was pretty fun at the bar. And he was _certainly_ good-looking. Maybe not as good-looking as Renji, but close. "Wow. You and Shuuhei? That's a lot of…"

"A lot of tattooed beefcake with maybe three brain cells and a motorbike between us? _Yes_. Exactly. It's a miracle we're still both here."

Rukia was quiet for a moment. She wasn't sure she should ask, wasn't sure what difference it would make, but… "Did you love him?"

Renji didn't seem offended by the question, although he had to consider it carefully. "Yeah, I think so. I wasn't _in love_ with him though, not the way he was in love with me. But he's a magpie, always fallin' in love with _someone_. He was real good to me, and he seemed happy enough with what I could give him. No hard feelings on either side."

Rukia took a deep breath. Renji seemed pretty sanguine about it, but something about the story made her sad. She thought about what Renji had said the other day, about taking things slow, that they still had a lot of ground to make up. She was beginning to think he was right. This was harder than she had expected. “Thanks. Thanks for telling me. I know you didn’t want to.”

Renji shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Kind’ve a relief, actually.” He eyed her. “But while we’re being fair… how ‘bout you? Any exes I should know about?”

Rukia shook her head. “No. I have only ever fallen in love with the wrong people, at the wrong times, or for the wrong reasons. Sometimes all three at once. Casual hook-ups and unrequited affections only for ol’ Kuchiki Rukia.”

Rukia squirmed a little as Renji regarded her thoughtfully. “Sounds like you overthink things.”

Rukia nearly choked. “You! You, Abarai Renji, who overthinks _everything_ , would dare to say--”

“That’s right. _I_ overthink things. _I_ make big, dumb, fifty-part plans that fall apart on step three. That’s me. You, Kuchiki Rukia, jump in both feet first, and things just work out. Usually, anyway.”

Rukia kicked a pebble. “A lot of pretty bad things have happened to me as a result of jumping in feet first. The last thing I need is to inflict my poor decisions on someone I’m into.”

Like everyone in Inuzuri, Rukia knew that falling in love was a mistake, a curse. But she had done it anyway, fallen in love with a tall, red-haired boy who would follow her to the ends of the Soul Society, or perhaps the center, as it fell out. It had ended badly, as she should have known it would, and she sometimes wondered if that curse lingered on, haunting her. Falling in love with a married man, and maybe his wife, too, only to have them both fall to the same hideous monster. And just because she hadn’t actually _acted_ on her feelings for Ichigo, it would be a lie to say some tiny part of her hadn’t fallen at least a little bit in love with him. He didn't hold her responsible for the resulting hell he'd gone through, but she was unwilling to let herself completely off the hook. Now, here she was, back again with that first boy, a little taller and with a little more red hair, and now he’d followed her to two other worlds, as well. I should really try to kick this crush I have on him, Rukia joked to herself. No good can come of this.

Renji’s brow creased in concentration. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“Maybe,” Rukia replied, still lost in her own thoughts. Usually, when Rukia contemplated her silly little infatuation with the lieutenant of the Sixth, she would imagine one of her Karakura friends trying to give her advice. But this time, it was her own voice that echoed in her head. Oh, fuck that noise, Kuchiki! 'A crush', my ass, you’ve been in love with him again since Hueco Mundo _at least_.

“I’m pretty sure we have,” Renji went on breezily. “And I’m pretty sure that we established that neither of our methods work very well on their own, but together… well, maybe you should try fallin’ in love with someone who makes fifty-part plans, is what I’m saying.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. He wasn’t even looking at her, he was staring out over the city again.

“Preferably that don’t fall apart on step three,” he amended.

Oh, _fuck_ , thought Rukia.

~ end part 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, Saturday, Saturday! It's the fight of the century, the Third Seat of the Meanest Squad in the Gotei, "Lucky" Madarame Ikkaku vs. the Pride of the Kuchiki, the 13th's own Kuuuuuuuchiki Ruuuuuukia! You'll pay for your whole seat but you'll only need the edge! Don't miss it!

* * *

* * *

Byakuya woke far too early. 

He had been dreaming. 

Byakuya usually dreamed very neat and orderly dreams, and made a point to forget them just before waking. 

He had been dreaming of the Wilds.

Dreams about the Wilds did not take kindly to being forgotten, and these hung around rudely as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He often found exercise a practical means of exorcising this sort of thing, so he dressed, and headed out to the practice yard. The air was chilly, the tip of the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. Perfect for warming up one’s muscles and driving away unwanted ruminations.

The practice yard was occupied.

Byakuya froze in the corridor, watching his sister’s movements in fascinated horror. She appeared to be practicing her Kuchiki form, but she should still be on the Form 1-5 defense. She had several more katas to get through before she should be doing _anything_ at this sort of speed.

“Good morning, Brother!” she barked, not distracted in the least.

So much for subtlety.

Byakuya flash-stepped into her space, taking the role of the invisible opponent she had been sparring up until now. “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded, blocking her thrust with his bokken.

“Heavenly Sparrow Attack Number 1!” Rukia shouted back.

“You are moving too quickly! You should be perfecting your movements first!”

“This isn’t lesson time! I’m just playing around!” Rukia returned.

“Playing around!” he retorted. 

“Isn’t this the end goal anyway? The moves are worthless unless you’re fast enough to overwhelm your opponent,” Rukia challenged. “And all that perfecting movement stuff is for _children_ who haven’t learned shunpo yet--”

“Who told you that?” Byakuya demanded. Had she been training with one of his men? Many of them were sloppy or cut corners, Byakuya had specifically asked her--

“It’s not that hard to figure out!” Rukia shouted back.

_"...I just think you need to update your business model," Byakuya informed his guide, as he shoveled his dinner rations into his face. He had initially tried to maintain some veneer of civilization, but she only mocked him for it, and now look at him. If he weren't so tired constantly, he would be amazed at how quickly he had completely lost his standards. "You are too clever an entrepreneur to be performing this dirty work personally. You should be outsourcing--"_

_A pair of throwing knives, charged with reiatsu whizzed past his head, slamming into a tree with a THONK!_

_Byakuya's head whipped around. A three headed viper was pinned to the trunk of the tree he had been leaning against. It was quite dead, one of the heads nearly severed._

_"There's not a real long line of people looking to get into this line of work," Hisana replied dryly, sucking some crumbs off her thumb._

_"What--?" Byakuya sputtered. "How did you know how to do that?"_

_She raised an eyebrow at him. "Just a thing I figured out. That's what you do when you live in Rukongai and you want to keep breathing. You figure things out."_

_"I knew you had some spiritual energy, but I didn't know you could do that," he finished lamely. He reached out with his spiritual senses, trying to feel her out. She didn't radiate wildly the way most untrained souls with even a little bit of power did. Instead, her power was tightly bound, deep within her, a rock-solid core of--"_

_"What are you doing?" she complained, making an uncomfortable face. "You could at least ask first."_

_"You could have been a shinigami," he realized. "The Academy has some sort of accommodation for those from the outer districts. It’s not too late, actually, you could still--"_

_Mealtimes were some of the only occasions he got to see her unmasked face, and so he had trouble decoding the mix of anger and sadness that washed over her features._

_"I didn't pass the entrance exam," she said coldly._

_Most people would have taken her tone as a hint to back off. Byakuya wasn’t most people. "How many times did you attempt it? Admittance depends heavily on that year's pool of app--"_

_"You think it's easy to get up to District 1 to take a bunch of stupid fucking tests?" she snapped. "I had to-- I had to give up a lot to make the trip even once. And for what, even if I had gotten in? To get bossed around by rich kids with spiritual pressure coming out their ears until the day I got eaten by a Hollow? No thanks. It was the dumbest thing I ever did."_

_She didn't speak to him for the rest of the meal._

He should not have let his mind drift, what utter sloppiness!

It shouldn’t have mattered. His body knew this form as well as it knew how to draw breath. It would not have mattered, if Rukia fought sensibly, but instead of countering his Rising Wave strike with a White Oak, she hit him with a Mirrored Rising Wave. It left her right side entirely undefended, and he performed the motions of a Crescent Moon kick, staying his foot so that it would not actually stave in her ribs.

Rukia was frozen, her eyes wide.

“What was that foolishness?” Byakuya snapped, setting his foot back down on the ground again.

“Are you okay?” she yelped.

He glanced down at his hand, which she had just smashed painfully against the hilt of his own bokken. Three of his fingers were already turning a rather unsightly purple.

“Why did you use that move?” he wanted to know, “I did not tell you to do so.” 

“I saw an opportunity,” she replied. 

That wasn’t the way the family sword form worked. You memorized the family sword form. You did the moves over and over until they were instinct. You memorized when to use each. You did not improvise. You did not look for opportunities. 

“Kuchikis have used this form for thousands of years,” he informed her. “But you see fit to bend it to your needs.” 

She fell to her knees, head bowed. “Brother, I’m sorry.”

It was an appropriate apology, and Byakuya hated it. All of this was his own doing. He had interrupted her practice. He had allowed his mind to drift. He had tried to teach a form that relied on precision and discipline to a madwoman he had fished out of the Rukon.

“You are forgiven,” he replied. He paused. “And I think you are correct. I felt that you would benefit from the traditional order of instruction, but perhaps the abbreviated form we use to train the house guard would better suit. I will show you the exercises I would like you to practice in order to increase the speed of your attacks. Simply attempting them at full tilt will gain you little.”

Rukia climbed to her feet. “Yes, Brother. Thank you, Brother.”

“But right now, I am going to go see to my hand. And Rukia?”

“Yes, Brother?”

Stop trying to improvise. The words were on his tongue. But he couldn’t shake that memory, the judging eyes of the other madwoman he had fished from the Rukon. “The Kuchiki form is not suited for improvisation,” he decided on instead. 

“I understand, Brother,” she replied.

* * *

Rukia and Renji sat on an examination table in Squad 12. They were uncharacteristically subdued.

“You got a hangover?” Renji asked quietly, his eyes scanning her face. “You never know what they’re putting in the booze at Five Fingers of Death on any given night.”

“‘S not that,” Rukia replied. “Just didn’t sleep well. Then… something happened this morning. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Renji nodded, and they sat in silence.

Rukia closed her eyes painfully. Last night, on the way home from the bar, amid a conversation about old loves and bad decisions, it had hit her like a ton of bricks that she was in love with her best friend. She had no idea if he was in love with her. He was incredibly transparent about most things, but in this, he was inscrutable to her. There was a time in their lives, long, long ago, when she suspected he had loved her, but his behavior at the time wasn't fundamentally different from the periods before or after, aside from an increased willingness to make out with her, and it was possible that she was just mistaking adolescent horniness for something more profound.

What was she going to do? She knew how _she_ felt, and she felt like she should _do_ something with this information, but what? When? Now seemed like a terrible time, with all they had going on. 

What was it she actually hoped to accomplish, anyway? It was still a little surprising to her that Renji would _ever_ go for some sort of no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits deal, but in any case, it seemed that she had missed out on that particular window. No, he would insist on some sort of _relationship_. The kind where you _told people_. Not that a relationship with Renji seemed all that bad, the idea was kind of nice, actually, but it just wasn't _practical_.

No, and just in case she had forgotten, along came Brother with a humiliating reminder that she was not entirely free to choose the path of her own life, when it came to swordfighting _or_ matters of the heart.

“Mornin’, jocks!” Akon greeted cheerfully, strolling in with an armload of equipment and shaking Rukia from her thoughts. “I see that no one lost their molecular corporeality in the last week, so that’s good.” He dumped his equipment on the table. “You want to do reflexes first, or reiatsu?”

“Reiatsu,” they replied in unison.

“By the way, Abarai,” Akon noted, as he unwound the cable wrapped around his meter, “I took that self-assessment you gave me, scored a 77.”

Renji nodded. “77’s close enough to be thinking about it. Was it mostly mediocre scores across the board, or are there one or two areas that brought you down?”

Akon shook his head as he strapped an armband around Renji’s bicep. “My zanjutsu is a little rusty, but the real killer is combat kidou. Who has time for that stuff?”

“You’re telling me,” Renji agreed amiably. “They’ll let you skip a section or two, but if you want to give it a go, this is your girl here,” he elbowed Rukia.

“Me?” Rukia blinked, snapped out of her thoughts. “What are we talking about?”

“Vice-Captain Exam,” Renji reminded her. “You know. That thing you’re taking and he’s thinking of taking.”

Rukia scowled at him. 

“What’d you score on his readiness quiz?” Akon asked her.

“Your _what?”_

“She didn’t take it,” Renji broke in. “She’s 110% ready, anyway, I don’t know why she doesn’t just take the damn test tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna get started now,” Akon informed them. “I’d like to do each of you separately, and then we’ll try it together.”

Akon took Renji’s reading first. It was strange to be doing this in such a clinical setting instead of say, a battlefield, but Rukia had to admit, she liked the cute little way Renji wrinkled his nose while he was concentrating on maintaining his power level.

“Your turn,” Akon informed her. 

As Rukia hardened her reiryoku into reiatsu, the cold, angry feeling of Sode no Shirayuki filled her body. It wasn’t exactly unusual, but it seemed strange for her zanpakutou to take any interest in this stupid little test.

“Innnnnteresting,” Akon noted. “I’m gonna go print these, they’ll be easier to look at.”

“Don’t leave!” Renji shouted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I do not like it when he says ‘interesting’ like that,” Rukia noted.

“Me, either.” Renji sighed. “Well, if it turns out we _are_ gonna lose our independent corporeality, it’s been a good run, Kuchiki.”

“What does that even mean? Are we going to disapparate or combine into an Arrancar or what?”

“Oh, I assumed we would disapparate. Merging into a gross monster could be kinda cool. If we do, you're the one who has to tell your brother.”

“I don’t think you understand what ‘merging’ means, stupid.”

“No one’s losing their independent corporeality,” Akon announced, returning with a handful of paper. He handed them each a printout. “Abarai looks the same as last week. Kuchiki looks like she’s headed back to where she was before your mission.”

Renji squinted at his graphs. “How is that interesting? That sounds like the opposite of interesting.”

“Yeah, it sounds like you would have said ‘innnnnteresting’ no matter what happened,” Rukia added.

“Probably?” Akon shrugged. "It's interesting to me, either way."

“Ugh,” Rukia groaned. 

“I would still like to get a combined reading,” he went on.

Renji and Rukia looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, remembering the angry backlash of reiatu that had occurred the last time they tried this.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Akon said idly, engrossed in his reader.

Rukia had already started to flex her spiritual muscles when she felt Renji take her hand and thread his fingers through hers. She glanced over at him, but his eyes were screwed tight with concentration. She took a breath through her nose and followed suit.

Sode no Shirayuki did not like this, Rukia could tell. She was ramping up her powers, as though preparing for an actual battle. Rukia had fought with Renji long enough that she recognized Zabimaru within his reiatsu, snarling at the edges of hers. Sode no Shirayuki kept trying to push them away, like children jostling to be at the front of a line.

“Folks! Kuchiki! Abarai! Stop! Cut it out!”

It wasn't until Renji’s reiatsu abruptly dropped out from under her, his hand letting go of hers, that Rukia realized Akon was yelling at them, and she snuffed out hers as well.

Akon was wincing and had his hands clapped over his ears. Slowly, he cracked one eye open, and pulled his hands away. “Now that,” he announced, “was _interesting._ ” He picked up his reader and started pushing buttons on it with a very science-y glint in his eye.

“What happened?” Renji asked, looking at Rukia. 

“You resonated. But in a bad way.”

“Come _on_ , Akon, give us the jock version,” Rukia pleaded.

Akon looked up. “So, you’ve probably heard one of those sappy old love ballads about soulbound shinigami, right? Epic romance, entwined souls, resonating reiatsu, right?”

Rukia swallowed. “Renji reads that shit.”

“It’s a _common plot element_ in the sorts of books I enjoy, yes.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. As it happened, she, herself, had an entire shelf of her romance novel collection devoted to interpretations of that particular trope. It was _dramatic_. Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Wait, are we _soulbound?_ I didn’t even know it was a real thing. Is it a real thing? Isn’t that a thing that happens to princesses and heroes, not a couple of dirtbags from Inuzuri?”

“Oh, no!” Akon shook his head. “Well, yes, it’s a real thing. Your own captain is soulbound, didn’t you know that? To the Captain of the Eighth? But you two are more like… well, I suppose 'dirtbag soulbound' isn’t too bad a description.”

“What?” Renji and Rukia echoed in unison.

“Look,” Akon said, looking them in the face, each in turn. “It’s really common when you’re close to someone else, to have your reiatsu converge. Really common. You don’t even have to like the other person. Happens to captains and their lieutenants all the time. It usually takes on the order of ten to fifty years. For you two, it happened in three months. You haven’t so much ‘converged’ as ‘crashed into each other’. On one hand, that’s bananas. On the other hand, Abarai said you were real tight as kids, so I am guessing that you converged and then diverged when you were apart, and then a period of intense training and isolation made you reconverge too quickly.

“Too quickly?” Rukia echoed.

Akon turned his reader around. The graph was just a series of vertical lines where they had repeatedly pegged out the meter. “You two don’t know anything about control theory, do you?”

They stared at him.

Akon rolled his eyes upward, trying to think of a metaphor. “You are close enough that each of your reiatsu signatures are able to act as a forcing function on the other. But instead of resonating smoothly, like soulbound people do when they go into super badass mode, you’re causing a dynamic instability. Like aeroelastic flutter. Like a poorly designed suspension bridge in the wind.”

Renji looked lost. Rukia was shaking her head.

“Uh… this is not an accurate metaphor, but maybe it will help for visualization purposes. You know when two people sing together and their voices are different, but they have great harmony and it sounds really cool?”

Renji and Rukia were both nodding now.

“Now imagine that both those people are a little bit out of tune, but in opposite directions? And it just rings painfully in your ears?”

“Oh,” Rukia sighed. Renji, who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, still looked lost.

Akon shot finger guns at them. “That’s you two.”

“What, uh, can we do about it?” Renji asked slowly.

“I think it will fix itself, eventually,” Akon noted. “Hopefully in somewhat less than ten to fifty years. In the meantime, that was, frankly, awful. You could probably defeat someone just by doing that in their general vicinity. I’m not sure if that counts as a sweet combo move. I’d give it to you.”

“And… what we be like at the end of that?” Renji asked slowly. “Just two people with kinda similar reiatsu? Or do you think we might, um, actually resonate? Eventually?”

He’s avoiding saying the word, Rukia noted to herself. Renji was like that, sometimes. Superstitious. As though saying it out loud would keep it from coming true. As if it would! The idea was crazy. Completely bonkers. 

Akon made a skeptical noise. “Almost surely the first. Truly soulbound pairs are vanishingly rare. Although, if you like reading those books, you probably know more about it than me. Vanishingly rare doesn't mean non-existent. This is very much not my area of expertise. If you want to come back every week, I can keep a data record of your reiatsu changes. I’m sure I could publish a white paper on it, no matter how it turns out. I’d be happy to list you two as co-authors.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m not coming back here every week,” Rukia said dryly.

“Yeah, same,” Renji quickly agreed.

Akon nodded, and Rukia recognized it as the nod of a guy who is quite used to his invitations being turned down. “Let’s get your reflexes checked, so we can get you two out of here.”

Rukia squirmed. She hated that nod. But Akon was a Squad 12 weirdo! Of course people rejected his invitations all the time! He was probably perpetually offering to replace peoples’ brains with lizards. Not even lizard brains, just straight-up lizards. On the other hand, he had just spent a bunch of time thinking about their stupid reiatsu problem, and he hadn’t teased them or made double entendres or asked them _even one_ of the invasive questions that a normal person would ask two people who were-- whatever they were. _Dirtbag soulbound_. He’d even made up a special term for whatever she and Renji were. A _scientific term_.

Ah, fuck it. Akon was her _friend_.

“Hey, I’m fighting Madarame tomorrow, you wanna come?” Rukia blurted out. “It’ll be down at the common fields. Three o’clock.”

Renji was looking at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Akon looked up from his notes. “You’re fighting _Madarame?_ Why?”

“To prove I’m better’n him.”

Akon contemplated this. “You are better than him.”

“What?” Renji choked out.

“In the grand scheme of things. I’ve seen both your files. Not counting the redacted readings from your last mission, I think Madarame’s record max power reading is probably higher than yours, _but_ he’s got half a century on you as a shinigami _and_ bankai. He doesn’t have a whole lot higher to go, but you do. I mean, sure I’ll come. That should be a sick fight.”

Rukia goggled at him.

“I been trying to tell her this for ages,” Renji agreed.

“Ikkaku has _bankai?”_ Rukia exclaimed.

Renji and Akon looked at each other in horror.

“Let’s go test reflexes!”

* * *

Renji’s head was swimming as he headed back toward his own division. He was 100% sure this was Zabimaru's fault.

In addition to giving him a wildly inaccurate impression of what it meant to be soulbound, Renji's many decades of reading epic historical fantasies had given him a solid appreciation of what nues were about. They were about civil war and plague and chaos and things just being generally out-of-sort. Over the course of the last year, Renji had found himself on the front lines of what was basically a civil war and near-collapse of reality as he knew it, and for the first time, he wondered if his zanpakutou actually made perfect fucking sense.

Prior to that, Zabs had mostly been a giant, perpetual pain in the ass.

Other kids at the Academy weren't plagued with nightmares where they had to wrestle with monsters they couldn't even see. Other people didn't get itchy, maddening compulsions to cover themselves from nose to toes in ostentatious tattoos (which reminded him, he was probably justified in getting started on his thigh stripes, he should make an appointment). Even the first time he released had been utter chaos, he had almost decapitated his own cap--

Renji halted momentarily in his stride. He hadn't thought about that in years, that day he had very nearly killed Captain Aizen in the middle of Small Group Drills. 

He could remember it clearly, now that he bothered to. 

Aizen, mewling over some new move Kira had picked up. 

Hinamori, turning her head to scold him for being too noisy, "Captain Aizen is helping _Kira_ right now, why are you always so--" and then her eyes going wide with horror as she shrieked and hit the dirt. (Momo was very experienced at hanging around with Renji when he was training)

Power, crackling like lightning down his arm, as his mouth formed the words for the first time, his sword stretching and curving, completely out of his control. 

Aizen, hearing Hinamori's gasp, and smoothly drawing his sword to block the blow.

Renji's own forehead down in the dirt. Bowing, scraping, apologizing. 

Captain Aizen, cheerful and proud, not a note of ire.

Gin, (why was he always _around?_ Didn't he have his own squad to run?) perched on a fencepost, that snakelike smile on his face. Hadn't even moved. 

Surely it had been an accident, just typical Zabimaru nonsense. Surely, if Momo hadn't screamed, Aizen would have just deflected the strike with his perfect hair or some bullshit. Surely that wasn't even Aizen at all, probably just some fucking illusion he sent out to watch the troops while he lazed about at home in his underwear.

But of all the times over the course of two hundred years or so that Aizen _might not_ have been on his guard, surely in the middle of looking over a bunch of newbs… Renji shook his head at the possibility. What if. He would have been thrown in jail, or possibly executed for it, but it sure would have saved everyone a lot of hassle.

Even so, it seemed unlikely that Zabimaru had done it on purpose. Renji wasn't sure Zabimaru did _anything_ on purpose, and if they did, the only possible _purpose_ was yanking him around.

Synching up to Rukia in a way that superficially resembled the idealized bond between two souls, but was actually just some _noisy bullshit_ , was an incredibly Zabimaru thing to do. 

It occurred to Renji as he walked into the Squad 6 offices, that he'd already delegated his early morning obligations and Captain Kuchiki was supposed to be over at the kidou butts until noon. Maybe a trip to his inner world was in order. He could give his zanpakutou some what-for, or possibly take a shot at scaling that dumb fucking waterfall. He slid the door to his office open.

Captain Kuchiki was sitting at his desk, staring straight ahead, unmoving.

Renji jumped three feet into the air. “Cripes, Captain,” he said, grabbing his chest. “I didn’t expect to see you there. I thought you were doing some kidou crap with Captain Ukitake this morning!”

Captain Kuchiki gave him a stern glare, probably for the “kidou crap” remark. “I had a minor injury at home this morning and had to reschedule.” Byakuya’s hand, resting on his desk, was wrapped in white gauze. 

“You should go down to the Fourth,” Renji said hesitantly, entering the room and shutting the door behind him.

“With my level of spiritual energy, it should heal itself in a few hours,” Captain Kuchiki sniffed. “I do not wish to waste their time.”

“Probably coulda had Rukia fix it up for you,” Renji suggested. “She’s a dab hand at jammed fingers and stuff like that.” 

His captain chose not to respond to this. “And where were you, this morning?”

“Down at Twelve again. I wrote it on your calendar. It’s just to the left of your blotter.”

Byakuya glanced down in surprise. “Ah. So it is. I noticed our Third Seat was running the morning drills?”

Renji surveyed the various stacks of paper on his desk as he placed Zabimaru on their sword rack. “Captain, you know I love running morning drills. I’d do morning drills all day. But it’s good for the upper seats to take a turn at stuff like that once in a while.”

“You should have left it to Kuchiki. Ohno is terrible at it. Why didn't you relieve him upon your return?”

“That woulda been embarrassing for him! And just ‘cause a guy is bad at something is no reason to let him out of it. Ohno doesn’t like shouting, is all. Once he figures out that it’s actually fun, he’ll be just fine.”

Captain Kuchiki regarded him with that inscrutable stare. 

Renji pulled a report off one of his stacks and started reading it. Every so often, he glanced up. Captain Kuchiki was still staring at him. Of course he was. He couldn’t write with his hand like that. What else was the guy supposed to do besides stare at his fucking adjutant? Renji slumped down in his chair a bit. It was going to be a long morning.

“Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir?” he asked, putting down the report.

“If Third Seat Ohno is handling your drills, you are free for the next hour or so?”

“I mean, I got,” he waved his hand over the bureaucratic wonderland of his desk, “ _this.”_

"Are you capable of not speaking for periods of up to an hour?"

Renji felt his face turning red. _That_ was uncalled for. "Yes, sir," he replied, mildly offended.

Byakuya stood up. “Attend me, Lieutenant.”

Renji hopped up. “Yes, sir.” He glanced over at his sword.

"This is an errand that requires neither zanpakutou nor conversation."

"Uh, yes, sir," he said, slightly unsure whether he should even have answered. What the fuck, this guy.

Byakuya left, Renji followed.

They walked past the main training yard, where Third Seat Ohno was still having trouble getting his voice to carry to the rearmost ranks.

They walked through the division gates and out into the city.

Byakuya walked quite briskly, as he usually did, a man with places to be and little time to waste. Renji was often thankful for the couple of inches he had on his captain; he had no idea how Rukia ever managed to keep up with her brother.

Renji began to get an inkling of where they were going around the time they walked through the plaza where Byakuya had once insisted that Renji would not pass and Renji insisted that he would, in fact. But why? There was nothing up _there_ but some stunted trees, a ruined execution stand and bad memories.

Another plaza, this the one where Renji had met Kurosaki Ichigo as enemies. It wouldn't be true to say they left as friends, because to be honest, they had each been carted away as piles of bloody pulp, but the next time they met, it was as allies, at least.

Up the stairs, those _fucking stairs,_ never skip leg day, Abarai, singsonged in Renji’s head.

At the top, Byakuya stopped. He stopped and he stood, and Renji stood beside him. They stood at the base of the ruined execution stand, in the spot where they would have stood, captain and adjutant, to witness the enactment of justice. 

Initially, Renji fidgeted, unable to look at it, unable to look at his captain. He strongly suspected that the captain had just been bored and wanted to take a walk, but Byakuya wasn’t the sort of guy who just took walks. That was laziness, Lieutenant, how could you think such a thing? So he made his adjutant trail along after him, made it look like they were actually doing something important instead of wasting some time on a rare sunshiney late winter morning.

But why the hell come up _here?_

Finally, Renji allowed his eyes to rest on that splintered wreck, left untouched since that day. His chest flooded with emotion and his head flooded with... not memories, ghosts of memories, maybe. The choking smother of helplessly wandering down to the holding cells and back up again, day after day. Chasing elusive snatches of sleep, night after night. The moment of decision, of putting down his badge and taking up his sword, throwing himself into battle after battle, only to smash on the breakers at every turn. And then, running, running, one foot in front of the other, his heart in his throat and also in his arms, legs burning, but still running. 

Suddenly, he realized that Captain Kuchiki was looking at him, waiting. He gave a tiny nod, let’s get the hell out of here, they sure weren’t sticking around for ol’ Lieutenant Abarai’s benefit, and they were off again.

They took a slightly different route back, a different set of streets, one that passed by the Coordinated Relief Station, but they didn’t stop in. The captain’s hand was probably feeling better by now anyway. Renji wondered what he had done to it.

Back to the Sixth, morning drills were over, the troops disbursed to other duties, and they strolled into the office, exactly 40 minutes after they had left.

Byakuya took the pile of mission reports off of Renji’s desk. “I will read through these, you do not need to pre-screen them for me a second time,” he said. “I need the payroll completed by this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir,” Renji replied, and got right on it.

And that was that.

* * *

  
  


_“Sode no Shirayuki!!”_ Rukia bellowed, materializing into her inner world. “What the _hell?”_

Everything was silent and peaceful. 

It was very cold.

The sky, which was often cloudy, was a brilliant blue.

There were big piles of glacial boulders stacked up around the lip of the waterfall. It was clumsy, ridiculous looking, a thing a child would make.

Water coursed around and over the boulders and down the falls, undeterred by these obstacles.

Rukia closed her eyes and felt around for her zanpakutou spirit. This was business as usual, actually, Sode no Shirayuki playing it coy, but Rukia wanted _answers._

Down, in the cold, cold mud, deep under the lake, her zanpakutou spirit lay buried, snoozing, a turtle the size of her hand, deep in its torpor.

Rukia kicked one of the boulders. “ _Fuck.”_

* * *

“We have nothing to do with it!”

“A likely story!” Renji yelled, suplexing his zanpakutou spirit.

“Ooof!” the nue cried in duet.

“Why you beefin’ with Sode no Shirayuki?” Renji demanded.

“She is the one who beefs!” Zabimaru shouted back. “A most disagreeable woman!” 

“But over what? You… you were getting along while we were away, weren’t you? What happened?”

“How should we know?” Zabimaru lunged for Renji’s knees, but he leapt away. “Ask her, if you wish to find out!”

Renji threw up his hands. “How am I ‘sposed to do that? She won’t talk to Rukia most of the time, and she ain’t even my zanpakutou.” His gaze moved upward, toward the waterfall that dominated his inner world, the one that still ran cold. There were two, actually, the one that thundered down into his river, and one far, far above that. He could only see it sometimes, it was often obscured by fog.

Rukia had told him once that there were two waterfalls in her inner world, one above, one below.

“I’m going up there,” he declared.

Zabimaru seemed to be tired of scrapping, they were scratching their head with one of their hind feet. “We cannot help you,” they warned.

They had told him not to go up there before, but usually, it was insulting, along the lines of “you fool, you’ll never make it,” or “you aren’t strong enough for that.” This felt different. Not trash talk, just a statement of fact.

“I can’t die in here, right?” Renji asked.

“You are very talented, we are sure you could find a way,” Zabimaru returned dryly.

“I’m gonna go for it.”

Renji had tried to climb the waterfall before. In fact, Zabimaru had made him do it, only to prove it was impossible. But he was stronger now. He had bankai now. He’d looked death in the face a dozen times and walked away. He could climb a damn waterfall.

He shucked off his clothes and sandals. It was gonna be cold as hell, but a drenched shihakushou was a nuisance and wouldn’t provide much warmth, anyway. Bare feet gave better grip. 

Renji knew the best spot to start the ascent. Unfortunately, he had to go through a curtain of water to get to it, so he was so soaked before he even started. He shuddered at the cold, but he felt around for the handhold he knew was here, and hefted himself upward.

Five minutes later, Renji hit the river with a loud _smack._

I am very out of practice, he realized, as the current gently deposited him back at the shore where Zabimaru was picking tasty things out of their coat and looking generally amused at his misfortunes. 

Renji stood up, squeezed out his hair, and started again.

* * *

Ikkaku was waiting at the common field, leaning against the fence and chewing on a blade of grass. Yumichika stood next to him on the other side of the fence, looking bored. A good two dozen members of Squad 11 had shown up, possibly because they wanted to see their belligerent Third Seat beat up a tiny noblewoman, possibly because they didn't want to miss the off-chance that a tiny noblewoman beat up their belligerent third seat.

Renji leaned against the fence, a suitable distance from Yumichika. Hanatarou and Rikichi hovered nervously nearby. Rikichi was carrying a notepad and a pen.

Rukia's much larger cheering section contained a significant portion of Squad 13, most of the Squad 6 futsal team, Matsumoto, Hisagi, an enthusiastic Hinamori, a reluctant Kira, Kotetsu Isane, and Akon. 

"Your girl actually going to show?" Ikkaku drawled.

"Ain't three o'clock, yet," Renji shrugged.

A cheer went up amongst the Squad 13 contingent. Kiyone and Sentarou were parading toward the ring, wearing dark sunglasses and looking exactly as cool as one would expect. Behind them was the woman herself.

Rukia strutted with the swagger of a woman who regularly gut-punched insanely powerful teen saviors of the universe. She wore Renji's pink flowered bathrobe, which was absurdly large on her, and a pair of oversized sunglasses that took up most of her face. Her hair was tied up into two tight little buns on either side of her head. 

Kiyone and Sentarou stepped aside at the entrance to the field. Rukia shrugged off the robe in a single movement and tossed it to Kiyone. She then whipped off her sunglasses, which she left in Sentarou's keeping. She wore a modified halter-top shihakushou, in the Squad 2 style. Her hands were wrapped like a bare-knuckled boxer and she had eye black smeared across her cheeks. She looked utterly ridiculous and Renji wasn't sure he had ever been more in love with her in his entire life.

"Madarame," she sneered. "Glad to see you were able to find the place." Her voice sweetened. "You get someone to draw you a map, or did you leave a few hours early? Very considerate of you, either way."

Ikkaku's eye twitched, just a smidge. "I'll show you considerate when I call in your _obituary!”_

Renji shot a judgemental look at Yumichika, who had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Not much of a cheering section," Rukia observed pitiably. "You couldn't even get the Karakura High Kendo Team to turn out for you?"

"It's gonna be a boring fight that'll be over in less than a minute!" Ikkaku shouted.

Rukia made an off-hand little humming noise and examined her fingernails. "All of my fights are worth watching, assuming your eyes are fast enough to track me."

Renji made a small, choked noise in the back of his throat. His eyes were slightly glazed over.

"Is he okay?" Hanatarou hissed into Rikichi's ear.

"Yeah, he gets like this around Lady Rukia sometimes," Rikichi explained. "He really likes it when she bullies people. Sometimes he forgets to breathe and I have to whack him on the back, but he usually works it out himself."

Yumichika rolled his eyes, "Iba, can we _please_ get this started before I'm so embarrassed I have to switch sides? Ikkaku, stick to what you're good at and paste her already so we can go to the bar. I am _far_ too sober for this." 

Ikkaku scowled.

Iba, who had been named referee, took up position in the center of the field. "Combatants will leave their zanpakutou with their seconds."

Ikkaku didn't turn, but passed Hozukimaru over his shoulder to Yumichika without looking. Rukia casually lobbed Sode no Shirayuki to Renji, who caught the sword one-handed, as if they did this all the time.

"Here's the rules!" Iba bellowed. "This is a contest of unarmed combat. No weapons of any kind are permitted! No biting! No crotch shots! No killing! No zanpakutou use! No kidou _of any sort!_ Shunpo _is_ permitted!" 

Rukia wrinkled her nose.

"Combatants to the center of the ring! Winner is the first to knock out their opponent or pin to a ten-count. Combatants may yield at any time! Seconds may yield on behalf of their combatant!

"Kuchiki! Are you ready?"

Rukia dropped into a fighting stance. "I am ready!"

"Madarame! Are you ready?"

Ikkaku rubbed his finger under his nose. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Seconds?"

"Ready!" Renji barked, while Yumichika managed a disinterested "Whatever."

"Go!" Iba flash-stepped out of the way just in time to avoid getting his kneecaps blown out by Ikkaku's opening attack.

For all his apparent laziness, Ikkaku exploded into action, firing on all cylinders. Renji recognized his strategy immediately-- it was the one Madarame commonly used on uppity new recruits who challenged him. Ideally, he laid them out before they even realized the fight had started. Renji himself had been felled by this very gambit not once, but _three_ times.

Fortunately for Rukia, she had been coached by Ikkaku's most idiotic but stubborn student, and also, she was incredibly fast. She kept bobbing in and out of his reach. Unfortunately, his defense was close to impenetrable, and she had yet to find a vulnerable spot to land a blow.

On the sidelines, there was a whoosh of reiatsu, like a gentle spring breeze, and Captain Ukitake appeared behind the small knot of vice-captains.

"Did I miss much?" he asked. "I didn't want to make her nervous."

Lieutenant Kira, who had been questioning the life choices that had led him to be in attendance at this horrific display, did a double-take. "Uh, no, sir, it just started."

"You missed her entrance, though," Hinamori pointed out. "It was really good!"

"Was it, though?" Kira echoed.

Matsumoto shouted something _extremely_ rude, generally directed at Ikkaku.

Ikkaku had started taking wild swings at where he expected Rukia to be. 

Renji gripped Sode no Shirayuki's sheath, because he knew what was coming. Hopefully, Rukia knew what was coming, also. They had _gone over this._

As Ikkaku lunged forward, Rukia blurred out of shunpo on his exposed side. Ikkaku transitioned seamlessly into a spinkick. Rukia had called the trap, though, and hit the dirt, kicking upwards. Her foot slammed into the side of Ikkaku's knee, shoving it painfully out of alignment.

The crowd collectively cringed, except for Renji who shouted "YESSS!" 

Yumichika shot him a dirty look.

Ikkaku was never one to let a little thing like the crippling pain of a blown joint slow him down. Furthermore, Rukia's prone position had made her vulnerable. He grabbed her ankle and swung her overhead, a one-way ticket into the dirt. Rukia caught herself on her fingertips, softening the momentum of the throw with her reiatsu. Then she used her other foot to trap Ikkaku's hand, and threw him with her legs.

“Not used to fighting someone with more than three brain cells, are you?” she sneered.

Ikkaku caught himself with his reiatsu, too, landing in a squat and a cloud of dust. His face had split into that manic jack o'lantern grin he got when a fight was turning out to be better than he had expected. “Who needs brain cells?”

They circled each other slowly in low crouches. Ikkaku was ever-so-slightly favoring the hurt leg. The fact that Renji could even tell meant it had been a hell of a hit.

Rukia charged, but as Ikkaku lunged low to meet her, she jumped, landing briefly on his shoulder before continuing on to a spot behind him and slamming a kick into his kidneys.

“Fuck, yeah,” Renji murmured. It was very gratifying to see her do that to someone else for a change.

Ikkaku spun and swept her feet with a low kick.

“Left ankle, check for sprains,” Hanatarou recited slowly, as Rikichi scribbled furiously in his notepad. 

Renji regarded them skeptically, but said nothing. Hanatarou didn’t tell him how to lift weights, he wasn’t about to tell the little guy how to go about healing people.

Ikkaku and Rukia were trading blows now. This was not good. Rukia was tough, especially for her size, but Ikkaku could take a truly incredible amount of damage. This wasn't a game Rukia could win. Hantarou was talking faster and faster. Renji winced as Rukia took a fist to the face. Renji felt a hand on his arm. “We’ll fix that,” Hanatarou said reassuringly. “Her face will be fine.”

Renji blinked. “I wasn’t… worried. About that.”

Ikkaku danced back while Rukia spat blood into the dirt. “You ready to give up, dollface?”

“Watch who you call ‘dollface’, you giant baby-looking turd!” Rukia spat back, and blurred into shunpo. 

The Squad 11 side lost their minds. Ikkaku’s face screwed up in consternation.

Rukia was everywhere, hitting Ikkaku constantly with small blows. He was blocking most of them, but he was also exhausting himself and didn’t even realize it. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could beat him. Renji felt his heart in his throat. He had honestly not considered what would happen if Rukia managed to trash his old sempai in a public fight. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stop himself from begging her to marry him right then and there. Well. If it happened, it happened. Surely, Byakuya would understand.

“Turns out I do know shunpo!” Rukia trilled. “How unlucky for you!” 

“Fuck! This! Shit!” Ikkaku yelled, and went into flash step as well.

The fight got pretty incomprehensible after that. It was fists and legs and grappling and dust and a purple cloud of incredibly creative obscenities.

The Squad 11 side was up against the fence now, pumping fists and shouting.

Matsumoto was climbing the fence on the other side, Kira and Hisagi trying to keep her from falling into the field. Kiyone and Sentarou were gesturing exuberantly and shouting useless suggestions.

Renji narrowed his eyes. After all his years of watching Byakuya at speed, his eyes were just barely capable of tracking them. “C’mon, Ru, c’mon,” he murmured. Suddenly, he felt a strange thrum from the sword in his hands, and cold flooded up his arms nearly to the elbow. As he looked down at it, perplexed, a huge blast of reiatsu radiated out from the field, and then there was silence. 

The crowd held its breath.

The dust cleared. Ikkaku sat on Rukia's back, holding her arms twisted painfully behind her. She was squirming and shouting, but she couldn't break loose as Iba started the count.

The Squad 11 side was hooting and jeering, Rukia's fans were booing and shouting disparaging remarks.

Ikkaku leaned down and whispered something in Rukia's ear that clearly enraged her.

"10!" Iba roared. "The fight goes to Madarame!"

Several things happened at once.

Renji vaulted the fence, one fist raised and murderous intent gleaming in his eyes.

Yumichika, not an idiot, dove at Renji, Fujikujaku drawn.

Rukia exploded into shunko, flipping a surprised Ikkaku off of her and turning on him with kidou-wreathed fists.

And then the oppressive, heart-arresting reiatsu of the Kenpachi descended over the common field.

"Oi! Madarame! Where you at? You got a real fight goin' on over here, I want in!"

The entire gathering, as a collective, made for the hills.

* * *

"Aren't you done yet?" Rukia squirmed, eyeing the drinks that were starting to pile up on the table. People kept buying them for her.

Hanatarou ignored her. "Next?"

"4th rib, right, check for fracture," Rikichi read off dutifully.

"Raise your arm, please," Hanatarou ordered.

Sighing, Rukia complied. "Or maybe you could give me a break and go fix Renji's face? I'm tired of looking at it." Yumichika had gotten in a good slash, leaving four nasty gouges across the bridge of Renji's nose and down his cheek. Not that it seemed to be bothering him, as he made his rounds to ensure every person in this bar had noticed and appreciated all of Rukia's best moves.

"You could try…not looking at him," Hanatarou suggested, a hint of gentle teasing in his voice.

Rukia's eyes widened. "I didn't-- I wasn't--"

Hanatarou met her gaze with a look of patient indulgence. "You don't need to explain yourself.” He tilted his head back slightly. “He's not my type, but I understand that some people find him attractive."

"Sh--shut up, you!" Rikichi stammered. "I just said he has a strong profile." 

Hanatarou smirked, and Rukia realized _she_ wasn't the one he was trying to get a rise out of. At least not solely.

"Go ahead and get him," Hanatarou told Rikichi, "We're almost finished with Rukia."

"Do not let Rikichi near his face," Rukia demanded. "Rikichi is not cleared for fixing faces."

Hanatarou chuckled. He seemed more...relaxed than Rukia remembered. Then again, there wasn't a war on anymore, so maybe that helped. "He tries very hard."

Rukia leaned a little closer. "Are you guys _a thing?”_

Hanatarou shrugged. "I missed you while you were gone. He missed Renji. We started hanging out."

"That's _weird,_ Hanatarou."

"Maybe. But it turns out we have a lot in common and we get along really well. I don’t think it’s so strange that someone who admires you and someone who admires Abarai wouldn’t find some things to like about each other.” Rukia felt her cheeks burn. “And I'm teaching him some kaidou, which I think is good, because Abarai hurts himself a lot, in case you haven't noticed."

"I have noticed," Rukia replied dryly.

"And we’ve been going to the gym. He knows a lot about lifting.”

“Oh, he does not, look at him!”

Rikichi was returning. Renji was a few paces behind, having gotten distracted again.

“Rikichi, show Rukia your guns!”

Rikichi pushed up one sleeve and flexed his arm, making a fierce face. Sure enough, there was something that could be considered muscle tone on his little stick arms. “Never skip arm day!” he recited cheerfully.

"Too right!" Renji clapped him on the back, having caught up again.

“Look how cute he is,” Hanatarou sighed to Rukia. “I’m working on it," he whispered. "We’re almost a thing.”

“Well, I support you. Keep me updated,” Rukia demanded under her breath, so the other boys wouldn’t hear. She started to say something else, but then Renji plopped down into the seat next to her, grinning so ridiculously that she couldn't help but grin back. Hanatarou finished with her rib and got up to examine Renji's face, winking at her as he passed.

"Look at all this," Renji gestured to her collection of beverages. "You must be the most popular shinigami in the Seireitei."

"Here, help me out," Rukia offered, shoving some at him. "Like I could drink half of this. You guys, too," she included Rikichi and Hanatarou.

“Can I have the one with the little umbrella?” Rikichi asked.

"Maybe when we're done," Hanatarou demurred. "Rikichi, what's next on the list for Rukia? Can you handle it?"

"Feh! I've had enough healing," Rukia announced, snatching Rikichi's list out of his hand and crumpling it into a ball. "The rest is worrywort stuff, I'll be fine."

"Rukia," Hanatarou warned.

"Ouch," Renji flinched, and Hanatarou turned his attention back to his own patient.

"Listen to you, you probably didn't even say 'ouch' when you took that hit," Rukia teased him. "I can't believe you got hurt worse at my fight than I did."

"I told you Yumichika doesn't play! And you were incredible! Ikkaku is the meanest, most underhanded, dirtiest fighter I know, and you hung right in there with him. You made his week, for sure. I am _so proud_ of you, Rukia."

"Keep it in your pants, fanboy," she teased him, but she couldn't help but bask in the warm glow of his admiration. When-- _how_ had the grumpy, competitive, jealous companion of her youth grown up to be this amazing, supportive friend?

"Can't," he announced. "Won't. I have Witnessed your Glory and I want to make sure everyone in this bar knows it. _HEY, EVERYONE! KUCHIKI RUKIA IS THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME!"_

There was a general chorus of assent and hoisted drinks. Renji looked incredibly smug.

"Are you drunk?"

"A little. Maybe."

"He's not wrong, though," Hanatarou pointed out.

Rukia played with her cup. Then, very seriously, she looked up at Renji and declared, "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you."

He shrugged, as if it had really been nothing. As if, left to her own devices, she wouldn't be a bloody, humiliated smear right now. “You must have listened to every single word I said, every single rambling story, every detail, and then you managed to _do_ something will all of it. I talk a lot--”

“You _do_ talk a lot.”

“--and I only manage to take about a quarter of my own advice. You’re amazing, Rukia. How the hell did I make vice-captain before you?” 

Rukia's heart felt like it could no longer fit in her chest, like it was trying to push its way up into her throat. What had she ever done to deserve him for a best friend? Yet he was hers all the same. She made a decision. She had been putting it off, trying to avoid thinking about it, but there was no denying what was coming. He’d been giving her space, but she could tell how badly he wanted her to ask. And she knew that what she really needed right now was someone to make her a fifty-part plan that she could completely ignore once it fell apart on the third step. Except that it probably wouldn’t, because this was the one thing that he was really, actually good at. "Renji," she asked, shoving aside her pride. "Will you help me prep for the Lieutenant’s Exam?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, as though he helped people train for the Lieutenant’s Exam every day. 

It was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. She grinned at him. 

He grinned back. “Can we start tomorrow, though? I lied earlier, I am actually very drunk right now.”

Rukia lifted a cup of sake to her lips. “Which do you think is going to happen first-- I get drunk enough to let you bench me or you get too drunk to actually do it?”

“I would never!” he shouted back, grabbing a cup from the table and hoisting it. 

Rukia winked at him. “Let’s find out.”

~ end part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fabulous GrindelWorks [DREW ME FANART](https://recurring-polynya.tumblr.com/post/613074754099904512/gasp-i-love-it-oh-i-love-it-so-much-she-is) for this chapter!!! It is just as extra as Rukia deserves and I love it so, so much!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia faces the consequences of her actions. A baby is showered. The Abarai Renji 47-Step Method to Pissing Off Iba and Becoming a Vice-Captain!! is explained.

* * *

* * *

“Fucking A, look at you in here, living your dreams!”

With a grunt, Renji racked his weight and sat up. “Why are you in my weightroom?”

“Because it’s half past dark on a Sunday morning and I assume your side also got drunk off their asses last night, where the hell else would you be?" Ikkaku pushed himself off the doorframe where he had been leaning and sauntered in, eyeing the premises disdainfully. "Look at this Abarai-fucking-place. Everything all neatsy-tidy. Big ol’ stack o’ clean towels, I bet you launder those personally. What the hell is in these spray bottles?”

“It’s disinfectant. For wiping down your bench, a thing you’ve never heard of.”

“Never heard of it? Heard about it every damn day for the nine hundred years I spent teaching you not to suck. Oho, look at this! Signs on the walls! 'We are all responsible for having nice things!' Fuck, I bet your little minions even follow your stupid rules, don’t they?”

“I can’t even imagine what the Squad 11 weight room looks like now that Iba and I are gone. It’s just one big pile of weights in the corner with a family of badgers living in it, no?”

“Look, the whole point is _picking up_ the weights, isn’t it? Who cares where they start out?” Ikkaku made a face. “We got, like, two or three gym rats who still subscribe to your dumb ideas. You can always tell when they been lifting, ‘cause everything’s stacked when they leave. I’m gonna send them over here pretty soon, they clearly ain’t Squad 11 material.”

“If it’s Mizuochi and Arai, I’d take ‘em in a hot second,” Renji replied. “ Not sure the captain’s gonna be willing to take on any more Squad 11 transfers, given how the last one turned out, but I’ll try to put in a good word.”

“Who else did we send over, after you?” Ikkaku asked, confused.

“I meant me, you dumbbell.”

“Pbbt. Zaraki said Kuchiki took up half the captains' meetings bitching about you bein’ gone. I think he likes you okay. Anyway, that’s not why I came over here.” He rolled his eyes up into his head. “I came over to apologize.”

“Apologize? What the hell for?”

Ikkaku straightened up and set his jaw. He had come over here to apologize, and dammit, he was going to do it. “Because I always thought you were dumb for chasing after some noble bird. I figured you got taken in by a pretty face and some soft kimonos. But Kuchiki Junior’s really something.”

“Did you not listen to a single story I ever told about her?” Renji glared at him.

“I’m not really a good listener.”

Renji rubbed his face with his palms. “Maybe you should apologize to her, instead of to me.”

“Don’t think so. Feel like I’ve been pretty up front with her.” Ikkaku pursed his lips. “Relatedly, Yumi tells me you haven’t actually smushed yet. What the fuck, man? Get it together.”

“What the hell is wrong with you two? Use grown up words! And shut _up,_ do you know where we are?”

“In an empty weight room at 6:30 in the morning? On a weekend?”

Renji looked stricken. He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Did… you think we had? Uh, um, slept together, that is.”

“Of course I did. I figured you’d been doin’ it since last fall.”

Renji’s eyes bugged out. “Why would you think that? _Do other people think that?”_

“Well, you’re together, right? Partner-like?”

“We’re just friends, if that’s what you mean.”

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. “That’s a fucking lie. You been in love with her since forever. You can’t be in love with someone and go around saying you’re just friends. I ain’t so good with words, but that’s not what ‘just’ means.”

Renji lowered his voice. “I got exactly one shot to not mess this up. Her brother doesn’t like me enough yet. I gotta play it cool until I have an actual chance.”

“So what, you’re sneaking around behind his back? That’s kinda hot.”

“If by sneaking around, you mean, keeping it a secret from everyone, including Rukia, then yes."

“How does she not know?”

“Uh, because I haven’t told her?”

Ikkaku made an extremely skeptical face. “There are lots of ways to tell people things, and very few of them require words. Can you imagine if I had had to _tell_ Yumi that I… uh… well, you know?”

Renji sighed. “You’re _so_ lucky to have him, you know that? By which I mean no one else in Soul Society would put up with you.”

“You bet I know how lucky I am! And I’m gonna tell you something it took us way too long to figure out: not calling something what it is don’t make it not what it is, you got me?”

Renji was quiet. Whether it was because he was thinking or because he was unable to untangle Ikkaku’s incomprehensible sentence structure was unclear.

Ikkaku stuck out his lip. “Enough of this horseshit. Why do we always end up talking about your terrible love life?"

"Because every time we try to talk about _yours_ , you start thinkin' about how pretty Yumichika is and your dumb brain forgets how to make words."

Ikkaku opened his mouth. He closed it again. His nose wiggled. His eye twitched.

Renji raised his eyebrows, his point well-made.

"Fuck _you_ , man, at least we smush. You're just as fucking bad. Look, here's the real reason I'm here: What did Kuchiki the Miniature hit me with at the end? Some kinda kidou? Hurt like a bitch.”

“It’s something we learned on our trip. I think Yoruichi may have taught it to us, but I’m not sure. It’s like starting a kidou but then fighting with it like reiatsu, instead of turning into a spell.”

“You can do it, too?”

“A little. Not as well as Rukia. I'm still getting the hang of it, but I can kinda use it to vent my bad arm.”

“Hey, that’s cool! You know, we ain’t thrown down in a while. Saw the way you jumped that fence yesterday. You wanted a piece of me.”

Renji shrugged. "You're very punchable.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I thought you said the next time we fought, you were gonna kill me?"

"Ha ha, that sounds like something I would say. So, how’s your fancy-ass vice-captain calendar look? Pencil me in for the 14th?”

“I’ll fight you right now.”

“You’ll fight me immediately after lifting? This is gonna be stupendous.”

“Oh, right. Let me wipe my bench down first.”

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. 

“Also, can we go over to Eleven? He mostly stays at home on Sundays, but I don’t want to know what Captain Kuchiki would do to me if he caught me brawling here with you.”

* * *

Rukia woke to a painful throbbing in her head. At first, she blamed her hangover and stumbled to the bathroom for a drink of water.

"Oh, no," she gasped when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her left eye had bloomed into a shiner overnight, swollen and purple. She wracked her brain, trying to remember taking any hits there. It was certainly possible. Ikkaku was very thorough. She _did_ remember brushing off Hanatarou's clucking in the interest of not falling behind in her drinking.

Her brain churned. Byakuya usually occupied himself with Byakuya-things on Sunday mornings. If she could get her maid to make excuses for her at breakfast, she could sneak over to Squad 4, get fixed up lickety-split and be back in time for tea and sword practice. Not that she particularly felt like sword practice after yesterday's drubbing. No wonder Renji was so tough, after putting up with _that_ every day for thirty years. She wondered if she could convince Mikan to do that for her-- the girl seemed rather timid and high-strung.

There was a business-like rap on her door.

"Good morning, Lady Rukia! Are you up, miss? I'm here to help you dress!"

Dress? Dress for what?

The door slid open and there were footsteps in her bedroom. "Miss? Are you here?"

"I'm in the bathroom," Rukia called testily. "You're not supposed to come in until I say so!"

"Apologies, Lady Rukia. You didn’t answer. Are you all right?"

"I'm not feeling well. Can you make my apologies to Brother at breakfast?"

"Um, did you forget, Lady Rukia?” Mikan asked hesitantly. “You're hosting Lady Gotou's baby shower brunch this morning? Well, I suppose if you aren't well…"

_Shit_. Shit, shit, shit. 

She couldn't fake sick. She had to prove that she was a good Lady, to Brother, to Aunt Azami.

Rukia wracked her brain, grasping for plans. She didn’t have time to get over to Squad 4 and then back again. She could try to heal it herself, but bruises and swelling were delicate work. It was hard enough to perform a kaidou on yourself, let alone having to do it in a mirror. She couldn't stop thinking of the lumpy hash Rikichi had made of Renji's face the other week. She was running the risk of making it look even worse than it already was.

Could she get Hanatarou to sneak onto the grounds of the Manor? It would never work. He was a good enough sneak given access to the Seireitei sewer system, but he would never make it past Kuchiki security. For that matter, who did she know who _could_ make it past Kuchiki security? Yachiru, who would be worse than useless. Yoruichi, whom she had no way to contact. Renji, probably. She’d seen him sizing up the security the times he’d been over. No, no good. He didn’t know how to heal. She should really encourage him to learn, it wasn’t all that much like regular kidou, maybe he could manage it. _None of this was helpful right now!!_

Her maid was still hand-wringing on the other side of the door. "--do you want me to tell his Lordship?"

Rukia took a sharp breath through her nose. "Yes. Please send word to my Brother that I need to see him right away. And then come back to help me get dressed."

* * *

Byakuya made his way through a wing of his house where he hadn't set foot in ages. He had lived here once. Hisana had lived here, then, too. Now Rukia lived here.

The last time he had been down here, Rukia had been barely more than a girl, not even a shinigami yet. She had frozen herself stiff, scared the daylights out of the help, and Byakuya had come down to investigate personally.

He wondered what in blazes this could be about. Was it an elaborate attempt to get out of today's nightmarish festivities?

"Sister?" he called tentatively, from outside her door. "You wished to see me?"

"Please come in!" Rukia called, sounding utterly miserable. Byakuya was taken aback. Rukia was usually so composed. Had something terrible happened? He entered her rooms, prepared for the worst.

Rukia was bowed low. She was dressed, but her hair was still in its morning snarls. Her maidservant hovered nearby nervously, and Byakuya dismissed the girl with a hand gesture.

"Thank you for coming," Rukia mumbled.

"Whatever is the matter, Rukia?" Byakuya asked. There was an unpleasant feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach. He urgently wanted to end Rukia's distress by whatever means possible. Logically, he knew this was an overreaction, clearly she was in no imminent danger. What was wrong with him?

Rukia straightened up, and Byakuya's voice stuck in his throat at the sight of the swollen, purplish bruise under her bloodshot eye.

"I got in a fight yesterday and my eye didn't swell up until this morning and I don't have time to go over to Squad 4 and I cannot bring shame to our family!" Her voice rose in pitch with each subsequent clause. " _Will you heal it for me, please_?!"

Byakuya very nearly burst out laughing, but she looked so horribly distressed. For the first time in his life, he felt the tiniest twinge of sympathy for his grandfather. "Of course," he replied. "Sit, please."

Relief washed over Rukia's face as she sank into the chair sitting next to her vanity. Byakuya tipped her chin up and examined the bruise critically. The shadow of a set of knuckles was definitely visible against her cheekbone.

"You should have gone to see a healer right away," he said, not too harshly. "Even though you didn't see a bruise." He flexed his fingers and cast a low-level kaidou. He wondered what sort of kerfuffle his sister had gotten into that ended with her being punched in the face. Her sharp tongue, getting her in trouble, no doubt.

"Ah, well," Rukia hemmed and hawed. "I _did_ actually. He fixed up the worst of it. I should have been more patient, and let him give me a good once-over." Her cheeks colored. "I was tired of sitting still."

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. The _worst_ of it? What could that have entailed? "With whom, exactly, did you get into a fight?"

Rukia appeared to be fighting some internal war with herself. Finally, she set her jaw and blurted out, "Madarame Ikkaku."

Ah, yes, notable hothead Mada--

"Madarame Ikkaku."

"Mmm."

"Third Seat of the Eleventh Division, filthy brute Madarame Ikkaku?"

"I want to be very clear that the fight did not take place anywhere _near_ the Eleventh."

Byakuya had no idea what that had to do with anything, until he had a vague memory of threatening Abarai vis-a-vis Rukia being on the grounds of the Eleventh. Surely Abarai didn't actually pass these things on to Rukia?

Rukia's bruise was fading away nicely, it wouldn't even leave a mark. Byakuya rarely had occasion to do any healing, and he felt rather pleased with his own Big Brotherliness.

"Did that ruffian accost you?" He wracked his brain for why a man like that would want to pick on someone as tiny and delicate as his sister. Obviously, he was going to have to avenge this injustice, but he really did not look forward to stooping to fight someone of Madarame’s ilk. Abarai would probably be more than willing to take care of the matter... but no, as Rukia’s brother, it was Byakuya’s duty. "Was he angry that you drew a picture of him as an ermine?" He finished the healing spell and straightened up. "There. Your face is perfect, once again."

"It was an otter, actually, and he didn't mention that." Rukia looked pained. "Look, Brother. I...I _swear,_ on one condition, that I will tell you everything you want to know about the fight. But later. I have to get ready for this baby shower and I'm behind as it is."

"There is no need to swear, Rukia. It is unbecoming, and in any case, I believe you. What is the condition?"

She stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly. "You have to promise not to get mad at Renji. He tried to stop me, he had nothing to do with any of this, and if it weren't for him, I would have lost in a very painful and humiliating way, instead of losing in a mildly painful and very respectable way."

The three assertions in that sentence did not seem to be compatible with one another, but Byakuya nodded in agreement. It's not like there was ever a lack of opportunities to be angry at Abarai Renji. "Very well, Sister. We will be sure to talk, _later_."

* * *

Byakuya was regretting his decision.

He should have made Rukia explain everything, immediately.

The party was now in full swing, and he ought to be well ensconced in a card game with the other male relatives who had been dragged to this cursed event. Instead, he kept hovering at the doorway of the solarium, trying to gauge how things were going.

Rukia was a tornado of efficiency, greeting guests, instructing servants, checking in on the immensely gravid guest-of-honor, who looked very pleased with the proceedings. Aunt Azami looked scandalized, but Byakuya suspected it was because everything was so well orchestrated that she couldn't find anything to criticize.

Byakuya couldn't reconcile it. His sister was lovely, graceful, gracious and competent. Had he _dreamed_ her black eye? There was no way she had been in a _fistfight_ with one of Zaraki's goons. It was inconceivable.

Then a very peculiar thing happened. Kuchiki Choei, brother of the mother-to-be and Byakuya's own 4th Seat, arrived, over an hour late. Rukia greeted him and he said something in return that made her smile-- not that false, proper, empty smile that she used for formal occasions, but a genuine grin that split her face and crinkled the corners of her eyes. Byakuya had come to recognize that as her true smile, and was exceedingly proud that he, himself could occasionally elicit one. What had that lout done to earn such a reward? The young man gave Rukia a collegial punch (?!) in the shoulder, and then moved on to greet the expectant mother.

Byakuya was waiting when Kuchiki passed into the hallway, carrying a plate piled disastrously high with snacks on his way to more gentlemanly pursuits. "4th Seat Kuchiki."

Choei nearly jumped out of his skin. "Cripes, Captain, I didn't see you there!"

"This is my house."

"Er, uh, yes, sir! And thank you for your hospitality! My sister is very grateful!"

"On the topic of sisters, what did you say to mine? Right before you…punched her."

Kuchiki looked like he was hoping a Hollow might attack the Manor. "I, um, don't remember?"

"Was it it in regards to a certain altercation my sister was involved in yesterday?"

Choei's eyebrows shot up. "You know about that?"

Byakuya nodded once, slowly.

"Well, I was just complimenting her, sir, on an impressive effort. Not just anyone could give Madarame that kind of run around, y'know?"

Byakuya stared at him. "Am I given to understand that you _witnessed_ this event?"

Choei rubbed the back of his neck. "Lady Rukia's always been a real big supporter of the futsal team, y'know, so we figured we might as well turn out for her."

Some facts were falling into place, but they were blurring the overall picture, rather than making anything clearer.

"Was this a...public fight? How did you hear about it?"

"Well, I heard about it from Lieutenant Matsumoto. There was pretty good turnout, close to a hundred people, I'd say."

It took great effort for Byakuya to keep his face in its default expression of neutral disinterest.

"You said you were there with the futsal team? Does that mean you were with Lieutenant Abarai?"

"I mean, he was there, but we weren't exactly together, seeing as he was Lady Rukia's second."

This time, Byakuya couldn't keep his eyebrows from lifting. "Oh, he was, was he?"

Choei shrugged. "Like she would pick anyone else."

Like. She would pick. Anyone else.

The two Kuchikis stared at each other.

Finally, Choei said, "Please don't fire or murder Lieutenant Abarai. It's been so much more fun since we got him."

"The Gotei is not meant to be _fun_ , Kuchiki."

Choei shrugged again. "That's no reason why it _can't_ be."

Byakuya was silent for a long time. "Let's go play cards, Kuchiki. I plan to separate you from all your pocket change."

"All _right_ , sir! You're on!"

* * *

Rukia stood back and surveyed her party.

It was going well. It was going _very_ well.

Rukia, who could not recall a single noble get-together that she had actually _enjoyed_ , had planned this shindig with the care and attention-to-detail that she had once dedicated to her long-ago grifts.

There were several things she had done correctly. 

Number 1: During her research period, she had heard that pregnant people liked pickles, and Rukia _loved_ pickles, so she had arranged for an entire pickle bar. She was exceedingly proud of it. 

Number 2: She had been to a number of functions in the past that offered the menfolk a separate attraction, usually a game of some sort. In Rukia’s experience, noble men were an enormous pain in the ass, and dragged down any function they attended, and getting rid of them was an excellent idea. Rukia had noticed with a rather sad pang, that the expectant father had fucked off within _moments_ of arrival. Cousin Naoko seemed happier without him around, but Rukia still felt bad. She wondered wistfully if anyone had ever shouted “Gotou Naoko is the greatest of all time!” at the top of their lungs in the middle of a crowded bar.

Number 3: There was a distinct web of required invitees at things like this, based on family structure and social status. Chiyo, one of the higher ranked servants who usually handled event planning, had helped Rukia with this part. But you could always invite _extra_ people. Rukia and Chiyo had dug down into the depths of the branch families and invited every Kuchiki woman who had birthed a child in the last thirty years. And this, Rukia was pretty sure, had been a stroke of genius.

Rukia had been trying not to hover too much over Cousin Naoko, but she looked so _tired_ and also, there was a whole-ass _baby_ in her, which was kinda gross but also kinda _cool_ , and Rukia was somewhat in awe of her. But Naoko’s stepmother, Rukia’s Aunt Etsu, had perched herself next to Naoko, and was talking her ear off and worst of all, _criticizing what she was eating_. Rukia was trying to form a plan for intervening in this reprehensible behavior, when one of the older Moms, as Rukia had mentally taken to calling them, suddenly popped over, and breathlessly begged Aunt Etsu for an opinion on some vase Byakuya kept in the front hallway, “you just _have_ to come see it!”

As Aunt Etsu was dragged off, Cousin Chizue, whose son was the reigning youngest Kuchiki, plopped into the abandoned seat next to Naoko and said something that made her grin. 

Rukia was mildly flabbergasted. In her forty years as a Kuchiki, she had never seen this sort of thing before.

The noble world was full of back-stabbing and veiled insults and maneuvering. Rukia, who felt uncomfortable enough in her limited world of Eligible Girls, had always assumed that you got progressively worse as you moved up through Wife to Mother to the dreaded Aunt. 

But there was something else happening here at this baby shower. It was _solidarity_.

Rukia had actually been avoiding socializing, mostly because she hated socializing. Instead, she’d just been making sure everyone had enough to eat and knew where the bathrooms were. But then she heard the mumbled words “enormous, gross cyst in my _nose_ ” and Rukia went _immediately_ into eavesdropping mode.

It was the Moms. They were all gathered around Naoko now, sharing battle stories. Rukia, who habitually made friends with healers for their graphic injury stories, sidled closer. The topic appeared to be, “weird things my body did during pregnancy.”

Rukia’s entire knowledge of pregnancy came from two sources: an enormous, dry, and incredibly sexist book a Kuchiki tutor had saddled her with shortly after she was adopted, and Captain Ukitake’s yearly lecture on Safe, Healthy and Consent-Based Relationships (the one where he cast the all-purpose protection kidou on a watermelon).

Rukia had assumed that making a baby the noble way was a matter of sitting still and being very calm and peaceful for a long time and then a baby came out. She had skipped most of the book, although she had read both the beginning and the end, which seemed like the most exciting parts, although they turned out to be covered up with impenetrable euphemisms. Obviously, she already knew how the baby got in there in the first place, but one could always be hopeful for an interesting diagram or perhaps some suggested positions. As it turned out, Captain Ukitake’s watermelon was more interesting than the diagrams in that book. 

The Moms were making pregnancy sound about a thousand times more exciting than that dumb book. There were nosebleeds, apparently, and bones moving around, and sometimes acquiring stripes or extra hair. It sounded _metal as hell_.

“Ah, Lady Rukia, pardon! We didn’t see you there!” Cousin Takako suddenly exclaimed, looking very guilty. She lowered her voice. “Apologies, this conversation wasn’t very, um… I mean, I mean, I know you aren’t even married, but having babies is very pleasant and not at all disgusting and, ah, don’t let us dissuade you from…”

“Don’t stop!” Rukia waved her hands. “I’m sorry! I thought having babies was boring, but it sounds really cool. I mean, I probably can’t even, y’know. I can leave if I’m a bother.”

A cool pair of grey eyes bored into Rukia. “What does that mean, you probably can’t?” It was Cousin Izanami, the second least nobly born person in the broader Kuchiki family, after only Rukia herself. She was the daughter of rich Rukongai merchants who had bought their way into Seireitei citizenship, and somehow managed to secure her a husband from one of the lower Kuchiki branch families. She had borne _six_ children. And she was still alive. She was a legend.

“Welllll,” Rukia hedged. Everyone always liked to act like Rukia was capable of popping out a child that would thoroughly mess up the Kuchiki line of succession, but she was well-aware of the number of things she had going against her. Her Rukongai heritage. Her career, which included both an Active Lifestyle and the fact that most of her spiritual energy was bound tightly into her zanpakutou. Her physical size. Rukia set her jaw. “I read that it works best when the husband has higher spiritual energy than the wife. None of the current Gotei captains strike my fancy.”

Cousin Izanami’s face split into a wolfish grin. “I _like_ you. That’s bullshit, though, I bet I know exactly which book you read it out of. No, it definitely works best when the wife is a little stronger than the husband. That’s why they send so many noble girls off for a few years of shinigami school.”

Rukia was struck dumb. When she was in school, she’d always looked down on the noble girls who dropped out to get married (not that she herself had finished, but that was different). She had never considered the other way around-- that a few years of spiritual training was a _privilege_. “Did you…?”

“I graduated,” Izanami replied soberly. “Got an offer from the Seventh, but my parents were set on my marrying into the nobility. I have two daughters in the Academy now, the oldest graduates next year. I’m not going to let any of these snobs tell them what they can or can’t do, and you shouldn’t either.”

“I did two years,” Naoko put in proudly. “I can still do a _Shakkahou_.”

“And how often do you remind Takebe of that?” one of the other Moms hooted.

“Oh, he _knows!”_ Naoko laughed. 

“Did you learn your zanpakutou’s name?” Izanami asked her.

Naoko waggled her eyebrows.

“You don’t carry a sword, though?” Rukia gasped.

“Zanpakutou doesn’t have to be a sword,” Izanami replied cryptically. 

Chizue elbowed Izanami in the ribs. “Azami’s circling again.”

“Make sure you get plenty of fresh air, Naoko, _fresh air_ is so important for babies,” Izanami droned.

“Oh, and have you picked out a nursery motif?” Takako added. “Please regale us with the details of your nursery motif!”

Aunt Azami cruised past, eyes narrowed, but found little to criticize, so she pretended to take an interest in the food table. “Why such an assortment of pickles, though?” she loudly said to no one.

“Because pickles are delicious,” Naoko muttered under her breath.

“Sour foods are very important for building spiritual energy!” Rukia announced loudly. “Shall I fetch some for you, Cousin Naoko? To ensure a future officer of the Sixth?”

“Yes, please,” replied Naoko.

* * *

The party, which was nominally a brunch, had disbanded, and once again, the Manor was blessedly quiet. The afternoon had turned chilly, but it was quite cozy in the study where Byakuya was ensconced with a delightful cup of tea. It should have been delightful, except that he found himself impatiently wondering how long it was going to take Rukia to finish supervising cleanup. The servants knew what they were doing.

This was very silly. Byakuya was an infinitely patient man. He constantly honed his patience on the whetstones of a thousand obnoxious relatives, the dysfunctions of the Gotei, and his ridiculous adjutant. 

You knew this would happen, a tiny voice whispered to him. This is why you stayed away from her for so long. She is turning you back into the person you have spent so many years driving away.

He did not have time to ponder this further, as there was a soft rap on the door and Rukia’s call at the door. He bid her enter.

“I was making sure Cousin Naoko had a nice time and got off safely,” Rukia explained.

“Did she?” Byakuya asked. "Enjoy herself, that is?"

“She said she did,” Rukia shrugged. 

“Please sit. Will you take tea?”

“Yes, please.” She sank into seiza across the desk from him, and he offered her a cup.

“Were you pleased with your party?”

She thought about it. “I thought it went well. I mean, I hardly did anything. The servants did a nice job.”

“You planned it, did you not? Selected the food, the decorations? Set the guest list?”

“I did all that last week, right after I promised to do this.” She stuck out her lower lip. 

His brow creased. “Are you ashamed for having...prepared ahead of time?”

She looked into her cup. “To be honest, I kinda forgot I had this today. I think it went really well, though. What do you think?”

He didn’t look at her. “It was not my affair. Aunt Azami disliked it immensely. She felt there were not enough… how did she put it? Cute games to celebrate the infant?”

“Nobody likes those things,” Rukia snorted. “I double checked with Naoko and she said she didn’t care for them. I had all her favorite foods and I made sure she had a comfortable place to sit.”

“How novel of you to throw a party for the person nominally being celebrated, rather than the guest of the highest status,” Byakuya commented drolly. 

Rukia wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry.” She did not sound sorry.

“What do I care?” Byakuya shrugged. “As I said, it was not my affair. The food was very good. I expected there to be more rabbits incorporated into the decor.”

“There were ducks,” Rukia frowned. “Chiyo said ducks were associated with babies. Are rabbits also associated with babies?”

The two Kuchikis stared at each other, equally blankly.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Rukia continued, “Who says Aunt Azami was the most important person at the party, anyway? She’s never going to like me, no matter what I do. I think Cousin Naoko might like me now. I’m quite sure I like Cousin Naoko. That’s a victory.”

Byakuya raised an eyebrow. Rukia always had such a roundabout way of looking at things. 

“Speaking of things that are not actually victories, I believe you came here to tell me of something that was not the tedious baby shower I just spent three hours attending.”

Rukia took a not-very-ladylike gulp of tea. “What do you want to know?”

“The beginning is usually a traditional place to start.”

“What, like, when I met Madarame?”

“When you decided to fight him. I am given to understand it was an actual decision, rather than a hot-blooded mistake?”

Rukia’s jaw worked. “Well, that would be when I met him then.”

Byakuya stared at her.

“I mean, it was obvious he wanted a piece of me, I could tell.”

“And the reason it didn’t descend into fisticuffs on the spot was…?”

“Well, it was at a social gathering, sort of a belated housewarming, and, uh, it didn’t seem like very good guest etiquette to start a fight in the middle of someone’s new quarters.”

“So you set a date for a future occasion?”

“Oh, no, it was all just trash talk at that point. It was later, we were putting the Advance Team together, and Madarame was being a pain in the-- a pain about going.”

“Abarai was commissioned by the Captain-General to put that team together. Did Madarame defy his order? What a repellent excuse for an officer.”

Rukia rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, Renji didn’t exactly _order_ him. They’re friends, it’s nice to ask.”

“But he refused.”

“He didn’t exactly refuse, he was just being stubborn to get on Renji’s case.”

“Abarai’s ‘friendships’ are inscrutable to me. Why would you wish to be friends with someone who would make such an occasion more difficult that need-be?”

Rukia sighed. “I’m not gonna argue with you on that, I don’t get most of Renji’s friendships, either. But to get to the point, I agreed to fight him if he would go.” She paused. “Ichigo was his first choice, but he had just gotten beaten up pretty badly.” 

“This was last fall, then.”

Rukia nodded. “It’s probably good that it was delayed. I think he would have beaten me pretty soundly if we had fought then.”

“He did not? He is quite a formidable fighter, I have heard.”

“We agreed on hakuda. He is pretty strong, but I am very fast.”

Byakuya nearly laughed at that, and hid the mirth on his face with his teacup. Why would Rukia brag of such a thing to _him_ of all people? “I didn’t know you were particularly skilled at hakuda,” he pointed out. “I thought kidou your main strength.”

“He never would have agreed to that,” she pointed out.

“I am also given to understand that this fight was something of a… public spectacle?”

Rukia pursed her lips. “I...suppose.”

Byakuya waited. “Do you have no further explanation?”

“People wanted to come.”

“How did they know about it?”

“I…may have talked it up a bit.” Rukia fidgeted. “Lieutenant Matsumoto helped. I’m not that popular in my own squad, you know. There’s been some grumbling about how I’m not suitable for vice-captain. I think I changed a few minds yesterday.”

“Who _cares_ what they think, Rukia? You will be their commanding officer, they will obey you. And you are a Kuchiki, they should not be ‘grumbling’ over your fitness in the first place. I shall speak with your captain.”

“Brother, _no_.”

He blinked. Did she just…?

“I am strong and tough and I’m going to be a _good vice-captain_ , Brother. I don’t want to rely on my name. I want to prove it. I want everyone to see how great I am.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty great, you know.”

Byakuya’s mouth hung open. Good Heavens, it was like talking to his own youthful self. He felt like he had said those very same idiotic words to his grandfather. He had, hadn’t he, after he got in a row with the Fifth Seat of Eight Company, one of the Noragashis, wasn’t it?

_“I can’t believe he’s_ punishing _you. You’re a grown man.”_

_Byakuya grunted as he finished his hundredth sword swing, before resting his shinai on his shoulder. “I need to practice discipline. I let my hot head guide my actions, once again.”_

_“Mmm, did you?” Hisana lounged languidly on the engawa, leaning against one of the porch posts and dangling one leg over the edge. How did she possibly manage to make such an exquisite silk kimono drape so sloppily, the way it exposed…_

_He swallowed. “Perhaps I should take a break.”_

_“Oh, no,” she replied, leaning forward. The kimono slipped off her shoulder. “This is punishment. How else are we ever going to find a cure for that hot head of yours?”_

Byakuya blinked. “We are up to the Crane Defense, correct?” he managed, referring to the sword lessons he had been giving her.

“Yes?” Rukia replied, confused at the non sequitur.

“You will practice each of the 7 moves, 100 times each, in the morning before you leave and in the evening when you return, immediately following the end of your work hours. One week.”

Rukia made a face. “Are you punishing me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re punishing me with sword practice?”

“Yes, I am, Rukia. You must carry yourself with dignity. You cannot engage in public spectacles with ruffians. This is unacceptable behavior.”

Rukia appeared to be trying very hard to control herself. “I just meant it seemed silly to give me exercises as punishment. I am working very hard to learn the sword form, I welcome the extra practice.”

“You will find 100 sets to be very challenging. You can use the time to reflect upon your actions.”

She appeared to be biting back something again. “Yes, Brother.”

“I do not wish to hear of you… brawling… again.”

“Yes, Brother. Is that all? May I be dismissed?” her voice had gone flat and angry, and her dark eyes flashed him.

“Yes, Rukia, that is all.”

Byakuya frowned as she departed. 

His tea had gone cold.

* * *

“So, you did a good job playing it cool, but I know that half the Gotei told you to come ask me for help with the exam,” Renji shouted from the rear part of his quarters, the part Rukia had never been in. 

Rukia, sitting on his couch, made an aggravated face. 

“And I’m sure you were thinking, ‘Ah, it’s because my friend Renji is such a good shinigami! An all-around overachiever!’”

“I never thought that!” Rukia shouted back.

“Or maybe, ‘He’s such a nice guy! So patient! Such a skilled trainer.’” 

Rukia could hear him coming back into the living room, but she didn’t bother to turn around.

“Nope.”

“But the real reason is this--”

A huge pile of something crashed onto the couch next to her and Rukia jumped.

“--my binders.”

Rukia eyed the towering stack of office supplies threatening to topple onto her. “What the hell is this?”

Renji plopped down on the couch on the other side of the binders. “So, I _knew_ I wanted to be a vice-captain, but I wasn’t quite ready around the time when Iba started training.”

“Why have you started telling me Iba stories all of a sudden? You used to refuse to tell me Iba stories.”

“I’m not sure, exactly. It’s like there was some switch in my head that used to be set to ‘you absolutely cannot let Rukia know what shitheads you and Iba were’ that somehow got flipped to ‘Rukia likes me no matter what and these stories are hilarious.’”

Rukia got a warm feeling in her chest. Her old instinct would be to say, “I already know what a shithead you are,” which was true. But instead, she replied, “Good, because I do like you no matter what,” and was rewarded with a big, unbearably cute smile. Why had they spent so many years slinging defensive insults at each other, when this was so much nicer?

“So, as I was saying,” Renji said, pulling the top binder off the stack and flipping through it casually, although he still hadn’t managed to wipe that smile off his face, “he started training first. And his mom-- did you know that Iba’s mom is a retired captain?”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, she was at 3 before Gin took over. Anyway, she did some administrative stuff for the Captain-Commander after that, but then she retired for real and _boy_ , did she have a lot of time on her hands, and she used to come over--”

“Come over? To Squad 11?”

“Yeah. Man, she made the best sesame cookies.”

“What does this have to do with the vice-captains’ exam?”

“Oh, she would come over to criticize Iba, but her criticisms were really specific and actually very helpful? Like, she would say, ‘Tetsuzaemon! Are you practicing your kidou in numerical order? They make you cast them in numerical order, so there’s no point in practicing the higher ones if you don’t know the lower ones!’ And, mostly to get Iba’s goat, I started writing down all her suggestions.”

Rukia guffawed. 

“I should note that she loved me, thought I could do no wrong. Iba was always trying to pin his shit on me-- she would find his cigarettes or his skin mags, and he would cry, 'oh, those are Abarai's!' and she never once believed him," Renji paused and grinned, "even when they were mine, and by mine, I mean the horrifying stuff I would hide under his bed when I knew she was coming over. But back to the story. She starts giving _me_ tips, and unlike Iba, I always accepted them very graciously.”

Rukia clapped her hands on her cheeks, utterly delighted at the idea of Renji charming someone’s mother.

“And even though I wasn’t really ready… I just started training? To piss off Iba?”

“It must have been a nightmare, the two of you living together.”

“We actually got along great most of the time. It was all in good fun. And to be fair, everything about being in Squad 11 is a nightmare. But back to the binders. Momo was the one who got me into organization, y’see, back when we were in school. Very satisfying putting together a nice, neat binder. I got all kind of binders. And once I got a Lieutenant’s Exam binder going, it was _on_. There was no turning back. And let’s see-- I was still with Shuuhei at that point, he had made lieutenant just before we got together. He thought it was real cute, me asking all these questions about what the test was like. He also happened to know that Izuru and Momo were both well into training for theirs. Now, the three of us weren’t on speaking terms at the time, but, well, I was tired of being mad at 'em by that point and it was a good opportunity to patch stuff up. One of the best ways to make friends with people is to ask ‘em for help. Momo’s always game to put together a binder.” He slapped the top of the stack. “So, we got the ol' study group back together, and once they took the exam, they gave me the lowdown. And I guess it got around that I was studying, because people just started giving me _tips_. Like, if you go talk to Ise Nanao, she’ll tell you all kinds of details. There’s some stuff she won’t, but the format of the exam, the way the scoring works, she'll go on for hours. That’s all in here.” Renji’s eyes were soft with nostalgia. 

That must have been a good time for him, Rukia realized. Training. Fixing broken friendships. Dating a straight-up hottie. Everything ol’ Abarai Renji needed to be happy, she thought, except maybe one sub-five-foot former best friend. She wondered if she had even crossed his mind in those days. Then again, at the time, she had definitely packed him away into the deep trenches of her memory. Who was she to be grumpy if he had done the same? She cleared her throat, trying to shunt this nostalgia train back onto the track. “And how did Iba feel about all this?”

Renji’s eyes snapped back into focus, and his face split into a grin. “He gave me so much shit about these binders, but then he would turn around and say ‘Abarai, remind me how the kaidou scoring works again’ or ‘Abarai, can I use your flashcards?’” Rukia noted the Renji did a spot-on imitation of Iba's affected Hiroshima accent.

“You have flashcards?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna send you home with those.”

Rukia grabbed a binder and flipped it open. This one appeared to be devoted to kidou, starting with the lowest level bakudou. There were hand-drawn diagrams, absolutely _covered_ with notes in at least three different handwritings. There was a funny little doodle down in the corner of Hinamori casting the first binding on Renji. Rukia noted with a soft pang of jealousy that Hinamori was a pretty good artist, capable of drawing actual people.

Renji glanced over. “Oh, you won’t need that one. It’s kinda, uh, remedial.” He shoved a different one at her, which appeared to be related to one of the written portions, specifically the civics of Soul Society. Most of the margin notes in this one seemed to be in the same handwriting, maybe Hisagi's? There was a note down in the corner of one page that was not related to civics. Rukia blushed and pretended she hadn't seen it. Definitely Hisagi.

“So, how is this gonna work? We’re just gonna work our way through these binders?” she asked.

"We don't really have time to go through all of 'em. This was four years of my life, Rukia."

"Four years?" Rukia gasped. "Renji, I have less than six weeks! How am I possibly--"

"Calm down," he said, waving his hands. "I wasn't ready when I started. This is how I got ready." He shrugged. "You might need a little brushing up, but you're ready. You could take that test right now."

Rukia shook her head frantically.

"Well, hopefully, this should convince you that you are. Do the flashcards. Anything you don't know, anything you feel weak on, you can look up in the binders."

"You're gonna help, right?" Rukia asked, feeling pathetic. She'd spent so long, convinced she could do it on her own, but actually avoiding thinking about it entirely. Now that she was staring down the barrel of the thing, she felt utterly overwhelmed.

"As much as I can," Renji promised. "But your captain’s giving you a bunch of work time to devote to this, right?”

“Riiiight,” Rukia said slowly.

“I’m afraid I don’t got the same luxury, y’know?”

Rukia frowned. 

“Don't make that face! I got you covered! I talked to the other vice-captains, and most of ‘em said they’d be happy to spend a few hours with you.”

Rukia made a choking noise in her throat. “You did _what_?”

“I made you a training schedule.” He handed her a binder that was mostly empty. The first page contained a calendar of the next six weeks, with two to three blocks per week listed with a vice-captain’s name and a subject heading. A few of the names appeared multiple times. The last block of the calendar was labeled The Big Day!!! and circled several times in red. “See?” Renji noted. “No big burden on anyone. Some of ‘em were pretty excited about helping. It’ll be good for you, too, to get to know everyone. Anyway, that’s your binder. Put your own notes in it. Draw some bunnies on the cover.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. What a tremendous amount of work he had put into this! When had he found time to go around and talk to all those people? But at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She’d been looking forward to spending a bunch of time with him.

“You can come over after hours as much as you want,” he said offhandedly, as though he had read her mind. “I don’t know how much your brother would like that, but uh, I could feed you, and we could talk about what you've been up to and, um…" he trailed off awkwardly. "Actually, after training all day, I'm sure you don’t want to--”

“I would,” she cut him off. "I would love that. Except that I can't. Not this week anyway."

"What's this week?"

Rukia made a face. "Brother grounded me."

"He _what?_ And what are you doing here, then?"

Rukia sighed, and related the morning's events. "So, he didn't exactly _ground_ me, but I have to come home straight away after work. I did my sets for today as soon as he dismissed me and came right over here. I didn't feel like being in his house anymore."

Renji's face was unreadable. "It's pretty dumb of him to punish you with exercise," he finally decided. "Has he even met you?"

"Thank you! That's what I said." She scowled. "Just because I don't _talk_ about it incessantly doesn't mean _I_ ever skip leg day." Rukia wrinkled her nose. "You should come over."

"I should...what now?"

"Come over to the manor. I'll do my dumb sets and then we can do flashcards."

"Is this before or after your brother kicks me out on my ass?"

"He won't. He always says I'm a full member of the household, if he won't let me have guests, then he has to admit he's treating me like a child."

"Why don't you ever invite me over when you're _not_ being punished?"

Rukia shrugged. "It's nicer here."

"Here? You'd rather hang out on my shitty couch than in the nicest mansion in Soul Society?"

Rukia shrugged again. “Yeah? Especially since you started cooking. I mean, I’m not gonna move in, or anything, but I can actually relax here, say what I think.”

Renji squirmed. “You aren’t… sorry you went to live with the captain, are you?”

Rukia’s stomach abruptly clenched. Six months. Six months and two weeks. Six months since they’d become friends again, best friends, making up old ground like it was a race, and yet, here it was. The last thing they had talked about before walking away from each other for forty years that might as well have been forever. The thing they hadn’t spoken of once in the last six months and two weeks.

The answer wasn’t simple. She didn’t even know how to put it into words. And she didn’t want to. It was too big. It was too complicated. It wasn’t helpful to anyone involved.

“No, of course not,” she demurred. “I was just being dramatic, you know.”

Renji’s brow furrowed. She could tell he didn’t believe her, not completely. 

“I’ll probably have forgiven him before I even finish this dumb punishment. And anyway, I have the best of both worlds, now, I get to live there and come visit you, right? You don’t mind when I come over like this? I mean, I know it causes some rumors--”

“I don’t care about that, unless you do,” he interrupted. “You can come over whenever you want. You wanna stay for dinner? I went to the fish market this morning after I beat up Ikkaku, that was fun. You should come with me next time.”

“You beat up Ikkaku? And I missed it?”

“It was spur of the moment. And don’t go feeling bad about it, I used shunkou on ‘im, and you know you’re better at that than me, which only goes to show that you definitely would have beaten him if he’d let you use it.”

“I didn’t feel bad,” Rukia sniffed. “We’re a team, we share victories. Better that you beat him than for him to beat us both, I say. He was probably tired from fighting me yesterday, anyway.”

“Oh, for sure. Also, I think you got his knee good, it looked like it was bothering him.”

“Did you make sure to hit it again, for luck?”

“Right off the bat. So many bad words came out of him.”

“See, this is why you’re my favorite.”

“You say that, and I haven’t even made you dinner yet.”

"There are lots of reasons why you're my favorite," Rukia assured him.

~ end part 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renji arranges cones. Rukia commits a Foul of Etiquette, but Byakuya offers amends to the injured party. Renji's friends are awful. Honestly, just the worst.

* * *

* * *

"There are a number of possible shunpo courses that are used on the exam," Renji explained. "I have exact layouts for two of them, and rough layouts for two more. All of them span the same physical distance, and include 9 checkpoints that you will need to tag and three keepaway zones that you can't pass through. Given that, I’ve been able to mock up a bunch of other possible variations. You’ll get one practice run, then your real try. You can retry twice, but your max score decreases each time."

Rukia nodded curtly. 

"Your captain was nice enough to let me set up a mock course out here in Training Field 6. You should come out here and run it a few times a day, if you can. I'll rearrange it every few days so you get a chance to try a bunch of different ones." Renji scratched his head. "I thought about askin' _my_ captain if he would let me set up a course at your house, but he would definitely say no, right?"

"Definitely," Rukia agreed with a smile at the thought of Renji showing up at Kuchiki Manor with his stupid orange cones.

"Now, the time you are aiming for is eleven seconds flat, you got that?"

"Will that get me the maximum points for this section?" Rukia asked. If Renji had gotten the maximum points for shunpo, there was no reason she couldn't, as well.

"Yup," he agreed.

"I wanna do it," she announced, clenching her fists.

He passed her a piece of paper. "Here's the layout. This is the one Iba got, which was only two exams ago, so it’s unlikely you’ll get this one, but it’ll be good practice.”

Her eyes skimmed over it. "Okay, good, let's go."

"Run it slow the first time. I'm not even going to time you."

Rukia sighed heavily.

"Look, you wanna pass by the skin of your teeth? Go ahead and be lazy."

“I’m doing it, okay?” She handed him the piece of paper back, and was off and very shortly back again. “There. Can I do it for real, now?”

“You nicked keep-out zone 2 and that was a questionable tag on checkpoint 7.”

“Eh.”

“Don’t ‘eh’ me! It won’t count!”

“C’mon, time me this time. I promise I’ll do it right.”

Renji poised his thumb over the stopwatch on his phone. “Ready...set…”

Rukia zipped off again, this time being careful to give an enthusiastic punch to each of the markers. “How did I do?”

“23.6.”

“23.6! That’s terrible!”

“It’s not, actually. You’ve done this exactly once.”

“You said I need to hit 11 seconds!”

“You will! C’mon, who does this in real life? It probably took me close to a minute when I started training.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Renji shrugged.

“Can you do 11 seconds? Right now?”

“I’m out of practice,” Renji excused.

“I bet you can.”

“It doesn’t matter what I can do! You’re better at shunpo than me, anyway, you should have no problem beating my time. I don’t even have any advice for you. I’m just the stopwatch guy.” Renji crossed his arms.

“Why did you even assign yourself as shunpo guy, then?” Rukia demanded.

“Because I like setting up courses with a lot of cones!”

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. 

He ruffled her hair. “I think the best thing for you to do is to play around with it yourself, without worrying about times. I should get back to the Sixth anyway. Once you feel like you got a handle on it, I’ll time you as many times as you want. Or, y’know, Sentarou and Kiyone working together might be able to figure out how to work a stopwatch.”

Rukia slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Separately maybe. It’s when they try to work together when everything falls apart.”

“See? You know how your people work. And here you were worrying you weren’t gonna be a great vice-captain.”

“Maybe,” Rukia sighed. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Are you sure about this?” Renji asked skeptically. “Should I bring my zanpakutou, d’you think?”

“Brother is not going to try to fight you,” she reassured him. “And yes, I’m sure. You can give me tips on my Kuchiki form.”

Renji squinted at her. “You really are trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” 

* * *

“I’m telling you, I am honestly happy for you two to keep making him tea! I might set up some sort of rotation so you’ll stop _fighting_ about it--”

“Just as long as I get to handle the chrysanthemum tea, Boogerface over here always adds too much extra hot water!”

“That’s some garbage, you’re just trying to get extra turns!”

“What if whoever isn’t making Captain Ukitake’s tea gets to make _my_ tea,” Rukia suggested, seeing a way to solve a problem and get herself free tea services at the same time. 

Sentarou pushed open one of the double doors to the Squad 13 mess hall and held it for her, while Kiyone did the same with the other one. 

“Hey, Kuchiki!”

“Oi, look, Rukia’s here!”

“Kuchiki, that was amazing, the way you trashed Madarame!”

“Kuchiki, I’m so sorry, I missed it! Will you be fighting him again soon?”

“Are you going to fight anyone else from Squad 11? You made us look really good!”

Rukia blinked, overwhelmed with the sudden attention. This was like eating lunch at the Sixth all over again.

“Stand aside!” Kiyone yelled. “Future Vice-Captain Kuchiki’s gotta eat!”

“Don’t call me that!” Rukia hissed.

“I heard she spars with the Sixth’s lieutenant!”

“The 'Let's Do Shikai!!' guy? No way, he’s huge and I think he has bankai!”

“She _is_ friends with Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“What is going on?” Rukia asked under her breath, as they made their way through the food line.

“You go home on the weekends, but your fight was all anyone was talking about yesterday.”

“Oh,” Rukia replied, pleasantly surprised.

“You used to be so quiet, a lot of people didn’t actually know who you were,” Kiyone pointed out.

“We helped fix that,” Sentarou bragged.

“Ah, um, thanks? I guess?”

She turned to go to their usual table, and nearly ran into someone.

“Hey, Kuchiki.”

Oh, shit, it was the troublemaker from the training exercise the other day. “Hey, Ooshima,” Rukia replied.

“I didn’t realize you were being serious when you said you would fight anyone who had a problem with your face,” the woman said coolly.

Rukia shrugged. “I wouldn’t back down from someone who wanted to challenge me, if that’s what you’re asking.” An image of a frowny little bunny-Byakuya popped into her head, shaking his paw at her. She tried to ignore it.

Ooshima rolled her eyes. “Gross. If I wanted to be in a division that solved its problems with violence, I would have asked to transfer to the Eleventh.” She stalked off without another word.

Rukia gritted her teeth. “What is her _damage_?”

“Jealous, probably,” Sentarou suggested. “C’mon, everyone wants to hear you re-tell your fight.”

“You dummy,” Kiyone chided. “How’s she supposed to eat if she has to tell stories? I will retell it for you, Rukia!”

“No, I will!”

Yep. Really nailing this whole people skills thing.  
  


* * *

“This is an absolute affront, you know,” Kuchiki Choei announced pompously. “Having my skills evaluated by a man whose job it is to make sure I am good at my job! How am I supposed to spend all day lazing about and bragging about myself when you have written down on paper how incompetent I actually am?”

“Do not do this to me, Kuchiki,” Renji groaned. “You think you’re funny, but this has literally been my entire last week.”

“If you think you’ve been getting an earful, drop by the Officer’s Lounge one of these days,” Kuchiki grinned. “Everyone is _scared to death_ that they are actually going to be judged on their own merits. It is the greatest thing that has ever happened to this squad. Oh, and speaking of being scared to death, I need you to talk me up, Captain Kuchiki is definitely going to fire me, after the way his half of my evaluation went.”

“No one’s getting fired,” Renji reassured his Fourth Seat. “We just wanna know where everyone is. And no one in this Squad is required to fight Kuchiki-style, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, your name isn’t Kuchiki, and you aren’t a constant disappointment to your family. I am a great futsal pivot though, so write that down, will ya?”

Renji leaned on the fence. “Do you know how the Ohnos got to be a Kuchiki branch family in the first place?”

Kuchiki sighed heavily. “I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“It’s because back in the day, when the clans were at war all the time, Kuchiki Souta, who is still considered the finest master of the Kuchiki form, was best friends with this guy, Ohno Genno, who he later named as his vassal. Ohno fought with this big-ass war axe, just fucking huge.”

“The war axe is a metaphor, Abarai. Everyone knows Great-Granddad and War-Axe Ohno were super-gay for each other, even though they were married to other people.”

“It was a _forbidden love_ , Kuchiki, have you no romance in your soul? And it does not change the fact that they were a _machine_ in battle. Kuchiki form is strong, true, but the one thing it lacks is brutally hard hits. You wanna mess someone up, get a Kuchiki to confuse and fluster the shit outta them and then you _smash them in the face with a war axe_. Or a war hammer, as the case may be. This squad needs hard hitters like you. If you could learn to fight with Isao, the two of you could be a major force to be reckoned with. And it would be ironic, y’see, because he’s the Ohno and you’re the Kuchiki.”

Kuchiki regarded him under lidded eyes, an expression that made him look a lot like a stockier version of their captain. “Ohno does not appreciate the inherent eroticism of fighting in partnership.”

“Then pick someone else! I don’t care! I’m telling you, your skills are real important to our division. How about Taniguchi? I bet you guys could get the whole cracking-wise thing going. Kuchiki form is Kuchiki form. If you learn to be a good support guy, you can back up anyone in the squad who uses it.”

“It’s too bad you’re also a war-axe,” Kuchiki grumbled. “Wouldn’t mind learning to fight with you.”

“Hmm?” Renji blinked.

“I mean, that’s you and Captain Kuchiki’s whole thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen you guys do that trick where he screens you with his flower petals, and then _bam_ , face fulla Zabimaru, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Renji said slowly. 

“I guess that is a pretty sweet move,” Kuchiki appraised, scratching his head. “I’ll see what Taniguchi thinks. Anyway, let’s get this appraisal bullshit over with. If I get knocked down to Twentieth Seat, you’ll stop trying to make me do your paperwork, right?”

“Fat chance,” Renji replied.

* * *

_"I really feel that I should be the one up there!"_

_"It takes nerves of steel to avoid getting sap all over yourself while doing this," Hisana shouted down. "Wouldn't want you to get burns all over those pretty hands of yours."_

_It was the sort of thing Shihouin would say, the sort of thing that would usually send him into a blind rage. But there was something about the way she said it that was different. Like maybe "pretty" wasn't exactly meant as an insult. Byakuya thought of all the fluttered eyelashes and coquettish smiles half hidden behind fans that had been aimed at him over a lifetime of horrible galas. Never had they stirred his heart as much as what was most likely just an off-handed insult._

_"I'm coming down, are you out of the way? If I land on your head, I'm not buying you new fancy barrettes!"_

_"I stopped wearing those days ago," Byakuya grumbled, as he stepped clear._

_There was a loud rustle and Hisana landed on the forest floor, bending her knees to absorb the force of the impact that she hadn't already been taken care of with her reiatsu._

_She was such a natural. She should have been a shinigami._

_Hisana raised her face, and her eyes danced. "Are you ready to fall in love?"_

_"Uh," he managed._

_She held out her hands, which were cradling the lacy curls of an absolutely stunning orchid. It was a deep purple, edging on black, with a few bright blue flecks near the center, like electric sparks. The cut end had been neatly packed into a little vial of nutritional liquid._

_"Wow," Byakuya breathed._

_Hisana pulled down her face mask, leaned over the flower, and inhaled deeply. "I don't care if it takes a month of my life every time I do that, it's worth it. They lose their scent within a few hours of being cut." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You want a whiff before I pack her away? A month of your life is probably worth more cash than I'll ever have, but hey, what else did you come out here for, right?"_

_Slowly, Byakuya loosened the straps of his respirator, and let it hang loose around his neck. He leaned forward, and she held her hands out excitedly._

_The odor was sweet and warming, like vanilla maybe, with the barest tinge of citrus. It reminded Byakuya suddenly, vividly of taking tea in the gardens as a small child with his grandmother. Grandfather didn't care for desserts, so they didn't have them at meals, only in the afternoons, when Grandfather and Father were off at work. Byakuya started. His grandmother had passed decades ago. He didn't even like sweets anymore. He glanced up, and saw Hisana's face turn from joy to disappointment._

_"It's not to your liking?"_

_He shook his head frantically. "No, no, it's exquisite! I-- it brought back a memory. It reminded me of my grandmother. She was very beautiful and she liked to spoil me. I hadn't thought about her in a long time."_

_Hisana's mouth curved into a smile again. "It is traditional to name varietals you 'discover' from the wilderness. You could name it for her."_

_"Ah, yes, I'm sure my grandfather would love that," Byakuya managed, not sure himself whether or not he was being sarcastic. He was too entranced by the shape of Hisana's lips to think on it further._

_"Well, then, let's get this packed up so we can find you one for him, too, right?"_

_"I would never name anything nice after him," Byakuya grumbled. "I dislike him immensely." He was aghast at his own frankness. Surely he hadn't said those words out loud. He could never say those words out loud.  
_

_"I gathered," Hisana smiled without a hint of judgement. "We'll find him a stinky one and call it Awful Old Git."_

_Byakuya heart pounded in his ears as he watched her tuck that pointy little nose, that overly large mouth back behind its wrapping. He had just said a treasonous thing about one of the most powerful men in Soul Society, and she had responded in kind, only more coarsely, simply on the merit of the fact that he, Byakuya, found the man distasteful. The_ gall _of this woman! It stole the very breath from his lungs. Or something did.  
_

_"That reminds me-- you should be careful about sniffing orchids," she warned, cheerfully unaware that she had just knocked his earth off its axis. "For every one that smells like this, there are three that smell like the piss of an old drunk."_

_"I don't even know what that smells like," Byakuya snorted, trying to regain his composure._

_"Ha!" Hisana laughed. "Of course you don't."_

Byakuya sighed, and stared down at the photograph in the book that lay open on his desk. The photograph did little justice to the original bloom; the deep black of the petals made it difficult to distinguish its features. It was described in great detail on the accompanying certificate of originality, crusty with botanical terms and signed by three of Soul Societies’ most esteemed orchidists. It had a truly unpronounceable scientific name, but its common name was clear enough, _Kuchiki Sonoyo_ , written in his own hand.

There was a soft rap on the door. Byakuya blinked tiredly. “Come.”

It was Seike, the chief of the household staff. “Good evening, Lord Byakuya. I have brought you your evening tea.”

Byakuya glanced at the clock. Eight, precise as always. “Ah, thank you, Seike.” He closed his book, and put it aside, as Seike placed the tray on his desk. 

“It is getting a bit chilly now that the sun is down,” Seike remarked in his quiet, unobtrusive way.

“It is quite cozy in here, no need to worry,” Byakuya replied.

Seike nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps it would be appropriate to suggest to Lady Rukia that the hour is a bit late for entertaining.”

Byakuya squinted at the man. “Rukia has a guest?”

“Oh, she did not mention it to you? I thought perhaps… pardon my presumption, sir. Yes. They are sitting out on the engawa overlooking the east lawn.”

“It is dark. And cold.”

“Lady Rukia did ask for some lanterns after she finished her calisthenics.”

“Lady Rukia is a practitioner of the family sword form, do not use euphemisms.” 

“Apologies, your Lordship. After she finished her sword practice. Shall I go suggest to her--”

“I will see to it, Seike,” Byakuya said, standing. “Please have a pot of Rukia’s favorite tea set up in the east sitting room.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Byakuya was sure Seike just wanted permission to kick Rukia's guest out. He was intrigued, though. Rukia almost never entertained, and on such rare occasions, she generally erred on the side of asking permission too many times. Was this backlash for the punishment he had given her? Who in Soul Society would she invite over? Surely, any of her noble friends would find it quite out of the ordinary to be invited over in the evening, after the dinner hour. He himself was constantly trying to explain the concept of “working” to relatives and social acquaintances only to receive befuddled stares in return.

He could hear voices as he approached. They were going back and forth, but not in the rhythm of a conversation. His sister’s distinctive alto was familiar, and so, unfortunately, was the other voice, a rough-edged baritone well-suited for shouting at lazy unseated shinigami. It was no matter. He had recognized the reiatsu long before the voices. He should have known from the start.

"For quick-fire hadou, how many can you do after a full chant and still get a boosted effect?"

"Generally the same number of lines there are in the chant."

"Right. What is the difference in destructive power from a _Souren Soukatsui_ vs a _Sokatsui_?"

"16-fold."

Byakuya paused at the corner of the house, trying to discern what was going on. His sister sat on the edge of the engawa, dressed in the same style of practice outfit he recalled from his boyhood (was it possibly one of his old ones? Where had she _gotten_ it?) She was idly tapping her bokken against one foot. Sitting perpendicular to her was his erstwhile lieutenant, leaning against one of the porch posts and dangling one leg over the edge. Abarai appeared to be quizzing her on _kidou_ , of all topics.

"Rukia," Byakuya announced himself before striding into view.

Abarai shot to his feet, juggling a handful of handwritten cards, half of which scattered all over the engawa. "Evening, sir!"

Rukia didn't move. "Brother."

"Have you finished your exercises for today?"

"I have."

"Why is my adjutant here? These are his Leisure Hours."

"I invited him over to help me study," Rukia replied coolly. "He's my guest. Or am I not allowed to have guests either?"

"You may have guests, certainly, but I would expect you to treat them with proper hospitality. Why are you still in your exercise clothes? If you wished an evening guest, why didn't you invite Lieutenant Abarai to dinner? Have you even offered him tea? Why are you making him sit out in the cold?"

Both of them gawped at him, speechless.

"Are you expecting my Vice-Captain to attend on you again tomorrow? Not that I would blame him for turning down any further invitations after such treatment."

"We, uh, hadn't really talked about it…" Rukia excused.

"We will have dinner at 7, which should give you ample time to complete your exercises and make yourself presentable for guests."

"Brother, Renji doesn't want to get dressed up and sit through a fancy dinner," Rukia grumbled. 

"Are you sure? Have you ever asked him?"

Both Kuchikis turned their eyes on the man in question, who was trying to get his flash cards back in order and seemed surprised to find out he had any say in this.

"I can't come tomorrow," Renji blurted out. "The next day would be okay, though."

Rukia looked vaguely betrayed.

"It's settled then," Byakuya declared. "You need not wear your uniform, Lieutenant, unless you don't have anything else appropriate."

"Um," said Renji.

"There is tea in the sitting room for both of you," Byakuya informed them, before gliding off.

There was a strong possibility that dinner with Abarai would turn out to be absolutely hellish, but it also had strong comedic potential. Either way should do the trick in terms of teaching Rukia what would become of trying to use his own adjutant against him. 

* * *

"Man, the tea here is always _so good_ ," Renji sighed happily.

"I wonder! What could our secret be?!"

Her sarcasm flew directly over his head. "Fancy tea, I figure. Every single thing the captain owns is a million times fancier than what regular people got."

"You weren't actually cold, were you?"

"Freezing."

Rukia groaned in exasperation. "You shoulda said something. Also, you absolutely do not need to come for dinner if you don't want to."

"I do want to. Unless you're worried about it cutting into our study time."

Rukia regarded her friend strangely as he contentedly wrapped his hands around his teacup. It looked tiny in his massive paws. "I don't get you at all sometimes,” she said. “Half the time, you hate him and half the time you're trying to get him to like you and half the time you're trying to surpass him."

Renji contemplated this. "That's 150% of my time. Also, that seems accurate."

"You work very hard and forget to sleep a lot."

"Anyway, how I feel about him isn't important. Even though you're beefing with him at the moment, he's your brother and you love 'im. Right now, he grudgingly accepts my presence in your life, and I am _very_ _grateful_ for that. Do I wanna get dressed up and sit through a fussy dinner with my own boss? Eh. Do I want to be invited to spend time with your family, like maybe I'm actually a person and not just some unfortunate hooligan you shit around with? Yeah, I do, actually."

"I'm not 'beefing' with him," Rukia muttered, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. "Brother does not 'beef' with people."

Renji snorted. "Have you met him? He's always beefing with _someone_." He frowned. "Are you so mad at him, you don't want me to come over? I thought you would be happy if I could manage to get into his good graces."

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. Once again, she felt that odd sense of double memories. On one hand, she had never really considered the possibility that Renji would want any part of her family life short of being strong-armed into it by her brother as part of his vice-captaining duties. The very idea made her feel strange. Not flattered, exactly. It was some cousin to the way he made her feel when he bragged about her or did something for her that she hadn't even known she needed, but with a strange side order of the terror that accompanied staring down the side of a huge drop-off. On the other hand… "Of course I'm happy about it, this was the first part of the Plan, wasn't it?"

Renji stared at her blankly for a moment, a look of horror bleeding into his eyes. "I didn't tell you about the Plan, I'm sure I didn't."

"We came up with it together, stupid," she chided. "Remember, we were walking on the beach, and you said…" And then she trailed off, because she _couldn't_ remember what he had said, just the way he smiled as he said it, except it was and it wasn't his usual smile.

Renji was staring at her, his brows creased with concern. "Ru? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, trying to hold onto threads of the memory.

"You remembered something?"

She blinked, and turned her attention back to the real Renji with the correct color eyes, and her heart _lurched_. "It's gone now." She rubbed at her chest. "Wow. That one was _rough_."

He reached out, like he was going to pat her shoulder or something, and then thought better of it. They were in her house, not his quarters.

Rukia didn't care. She reached out and grabbed his hand with both of hers, and squeezed it too hard, feeling the sharp press of his dumb bony knuckles into her palm. She felt an overwhelming sadness, like she had missed out on something, except that she couldn’t even remember what it was she had missed. "What were we talking about?" she asked.

"The Plan," Renji replied stiffly, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word.

"What plan?" Rukia echoed. "Plan to do what?"

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she sniffed, her voice back to its normal imperious tone, although his hand was still clamped between hers. "You better not fuck this up, though. You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Che!" he scoffed. "Of course I do!'

* * *

"You guys have got to help me, I have no idea what I'm doing!” 

Izuru and Momo stood in their friend’s living room, regarding him skeptically. Even back to their school days, Renji had always been the rock of the trio, the imperturbable cool guy counterbalancing their own tendencies toward anxious flailing. That was certainly not the case at the moment. 

Renji was pacing back and forth across the room, waving his hands a lot. "The captain invited me over for dinner, and I don't know any of the rules for fancy people eating and I cannot fuck this up or--"

Fortunately, Izuru and Momo had some expertise at this sort of thing.

"First of all, you need to calm down," Momo informed him. "Secondly, why is Hisagi here?"

"I was promised food," Shuuhei announced brightly.

"He helped me move this table in here," Renji explained, gesturing toward his newest piece of furniture. “And he made rice for me.”

"You bought a table for this? It _is_ serious."

"How am I supposed to learn table manners without a table? Also, I made him bring me a bunch of Bulletin back-issues from when Captain Kuchiki used to write that etiquette column.”

“It was a bad column and I do not feel bad about axing it,” Shuuhei proclaimed. “I told Renji not to bother with it.”

“It _is_ a bad column,” Renji wailed. “He is a _bad writer_ and I cannot understand three-quarters of what he is saying. Would it have killed him to include a diagram or two? A concrete example?”

"Momo's right, you really need to calm down," Izuru said soothingly. "Forget about the etiquette column. Remember, you've done a really good job of convincing Captain Kuchiki that you're an uncultured goon, so I'm sure his expectations are very, very low. He's seen you make tea, I presume?"

Renji stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes. "I would be offended, but you are absolutely correct and I am going to hold on to that."

Momo patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't listen to him. You've asked the right people (except Shuuhei)."

"I only hit that door frame twice!"

"Izuru took me to his house for dinner _several times_ back when he was trying to convince his family he wasn't gay," Momo went on. "His sister said my manners were impeccable."

" _That wasn't why I took you home_ , and also, you guys have to understand that my oldest sister is really mean, that is a very strong testament to Momo's manners."

"I've met your sister, she's not so bad," Renji protested.

"That was before she was in charge of the family," Kira explained.

"You never brought me home for dinner," Shuuhei grumped.

"Well, pay attention, and if you can upgrade your table manners from 'atrocious' to 'embarrassing', I'll consider it."

"Does this mean we can eat now?" Shuuhei whined. "Moving furniture is hard work."

"You know where the food is, just make sure to leave some for everyone else," Renji shooed him toward the kitchen. 

"Did you cook it?" Izuru asked incredulously. Renji had said something about cooking the other night, but Izuru still couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"Shuuhei helped with rice," Renji admitted. "I did the rest."

"He did, I watched him!" Shuuhei added. "The guy knows what he's doing. I think he might be a better cook than me."

“You’re a great cook, you’re just too cheap to buy half-decent ingredients!” Renji rebutted.

Izuru was making an extremely skeptical face.

"Eat it or don't," Renji scowled. "There is exactly one person whose opinion of my cooking matters, and you're not her."

"Itsh super-good!" Shuuhei called from the kitchen, around a mouthful of food. "You jerks are missing out!"

Momo's eyes darted back and forth between them. "Is this...the inverted world?"

"It's still not funny, stop trying to make that joke happen," Izuru informed her.

"It's hilarious, you just have to be in Squad 5!"

Renji sighed, and headed into the kitchen. "Shuuhei, my man, I have plates!"

"Seriously, what is happening?" Momo hissed to Izuru. 

"I _think_ he learned to cook when he was...wherever he was. Rukia swears by his cooking, too, but you know how she is."

Momo narrowed her eyes at Izuru, while shouting cheerfully, "I support your new ventures, Renji! I will eat whatever it is you have made, no matter how terrifying it is!"

"Uh, thanks, I guess? It's ginger pork?"

"So, for starters, the Kuchikis will serve their food at the table, they're not going to make you go into the kitchen," Izuru pointed out. 

"I know that, I just don't own any serving bowls!"

Izuru looked at Momo. She shrugged. 

Renji returned from the kitchen, juggling three bowls. Shuuhei trailed him, already eating out of his. 

Izuru relieved Renji of two of the bowls, and passed one on to Momo. "Maybe we should roleplay. Who wants to be Captain Kuchiki?"

"Me! Me!" Shuuhei volunteered.

"I'll be Captain Kuchiki," Izuru amended.

"I don't want to be Rukia," Momo announced at the same time Renji commented "I don't think Momo should be Rukia."

"O-kay," Izuru rolled his eyes. "Momo will be Captain Kuchiki, I'll be Rukia. Renji, you be Renji. Shuuhei, you're a worse Renji."

"Seating is important," Momo pointed out. "I'll sit at the head of the table, because I'm the most important. Rukia would probably sit opposite me?"

"Likely," Izuru agreed. "Especially because you're her guest, right?" he asked Renji. “Or are you Captain Kuchiki’s guest?”

"I think I’m Rukia’s guest?" Renji guessed.

"You'll sit at my right," Momo went on, "Renji Number 2, across from him."

"Maybe we could use my name?" Shuuhei suggested hopefully. He didn't get any takers.

"Another important thing is how fast you eat," Momo announced. "No one should start eating until I do, and you should finish before me."

Renji blinked. "What?"

"Maybe watch Rukia, and try to eat about as fast as she does," Izuru suggested.

"Have you _seen_ Rukia eat?" Renji exclaimed. "There's no way I could keep pace with her!" 

"Is she like that around Captain Kuchiki?" Momo asked, her voice somewhere between aghast and impressed. Momo had never really gotten to know Rukia much beyond the first half of their freshman year at the Academy, where Renji's childhood friend had alternated between quiet surliness and crude dirtbaggery. In Momo's mind, Rukia being adopted by the classiest man in Soul Society was cosmically unfair on a number of levels.

"I don't really know," Renji said softly. "Lately, whenever all three of us are together, the captain looks at her like she's being weird when she's really just being herself. So maybe she's different when it's just the two of them." The words _whenever all three of us are together_ clanged oddly in his head. This wasn’t what he had expected. For forty years, he assumed he would somehow manage to impress Captain Kuchiki, get a pat on the back and a blessing, and then carry Rukia off into the sunset. The idea that “impressing Captain Kuchiki” was more of an ongoing process, and that Captain Kuchiki was planning on sticking around for all this, was something that was just starting to sink in. And a year ago, this would have been _absolutely horrifying_ , but now it was just… how it was?

Renji was shaken from his thoughts by Izuru clearing his throat. "Probably the most important thing to focus on, and the part that Captain Kuchiki may intentionally try to trip you up on, is conversation."

"I guess he is mean enough to do that to me. I didn't even think of that."

"Of course you didn't, you're way too trusting. So, Captain Kuchiki drives the conversation. Whatever he wants to talk about, that's what you're talking about. Or, if he chooses, he may delegate the conversation topic to you or to Rukia. If he delegates to you, here are some things not to talk about: Squad 6. Work stuff generally."

"Futsal," Momo added.

"Your exercise regimen," Izuru went on.

"Sunglasses," Shuuhei contributed.

"Your tattoos."

"Your zanpakutou."

"Drinking."

"Your time in Squad 11."

"I get the idea! Don't talk about anything I know anything about! So, what _is_ a good topic?"

There was a long silence.

"You could talk about the new ordinance the Central 46 is debating, regarding licensure for Seireitei-based businesses operating in the Rukon," Shuuhei offered helpfully.

Everyone stared at him.

"Renji should absolutely not try to talk about Rukongai politics with Captain Kuchiki," Izuru finally pointed out.

"Oh, right. Um, the Seireitei Symphonic Orchestra just put out their spring schedule?"

"Good! Perfect!"

Renji looked like he wanted to die.

"Kouda Junichi is opening a new tea house in the Jade Quarter," Shuuhei tried again. "He's the owner of the White Lotus, which is one of Captain Kuchiki's favorite restaurants, if the society column is to be trusted. That's a good conversational topic because you can speculate a lot without actually needing to know anything about it."

Renji put his head down on the table. "Oh, no. Shuuhei is beating me now. _I_ am the worst Renji."

"Ooh, ooh," Momo remembered. "My captain just got a haircut. It's terrible! It's real bad!"

Renji sat up, hopeful. "Captain Kuchiki loves judging other people's bad haircuts!"

"Well," Izuru sighed, "Let’s just give this a try. Momo, are you rea-- what are you doing?”

Momo was trying to stick a rolled up napkin in her hair. “Making kenseikan.”

“You want some paper?” Renji suggested. “Might work better.”

“You got any cardstock?” Shuuhei asked. “That would be perfect.”

“I do, I was makin’ more flashcards the other day!”

Izuru looked around as Renji collected art supplies. There was no point in trying to get back on topic with these maniacs, he was just going to have to wait it out. The table was a good addition, he decided. Abarai's quarters were slowly starting to look less like an unused training dojo and more like someone's living space. They’d lived together, he and Abarai, back in school and again after they joined the Fifth. Whether it was Renji’s Rukongai upbringing or his natural restlessness, he had always resisted _owning_ things, especially large things, as though he needed to be ready to skip town at any moment and didn’t want to leave any evidence of himself behind. But the big guy actually seemed to be settling in here at Sixth Company. There were even a few framed photos on the wall. Izuru squinted at them: they all appeared to show Abarai and Kuchiki in various advanced states of inebriation. Well. Baby steps.

Izuru rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. No one else had waited to eat, so he gave up and took a bite of his food. It wasn’t fancy, by any means, but it was a definite step up from what they served in the mess. Something you’d find in some hole-in-the-wall restaurant and tell all your friends about. “Hey, this is good,” he commented.

“What did you expect?” Renji asked, looking up from his card folding.

“Yeah, it tastes a lot like something my Granny would make,” Momo added. “That’s a giant compliment, by the way, cooking like an old Rukon lady.”

“Wow! Thanks!” Renji beamed. “I mean, in my part of the Rukon, the old ladies would club you over the head and steal your stuff, but I’ll take it in the spirit it was intended.”

“One more,” Shuuhei suggested. He was pinning the makeshift kenseikan into Momo’s hair with paperclips. “Very regal.”

“You look stupid,” Izuru informed her.

“As do you, my precious sister,” Momo intoned.

“You’ve got the voice down, for sure,” Renji praised.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this show on the road,” Izuru rolled his hand impatiently.

“Welcome to my estate, my filthy lieutenant!” Momo announced.

“Thank you, sir, it is an honor,” Renji returned very seriously.

“You need to acknowledge me,” Izuru pointed out. 

“Okay. Um. Hi? Rukia? Good evening?”

“You could give her a compliment. You are looking lovely tonight, Lady Rukia?”

Renji shook his head. “No.”

Izuru gave Renji a stern look. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean, I have never told Rukia she looked lovely in my entire life, I am not going to start with her brother standing right there. I don’t think I’ve ever told _anyone_ they looked lovely.”

“Well, you need to start, it’s a dumb empty thing that noble people tell each other constantly, it doesn’t matter if its true or not. You tell your ancient aunts they look lovely, you tell awkward horsey third daughters who want you to marry them they are lovely, you tell your six-year-old cousin she looks lovely, it’s just polite, _it doesn’t matter._ ”

“Maybe it’s easier if it’s not true,” Renji pondered. “Izuru, you look lovely tonight.”

“Ha, ha, burn,” Shuuhei snorted.

“Welcome to you, as well, someone else’s filthy lieutenant,” Momo shot in his direction.

“Oh, uh, yes, thanks, Captain Kuchiki. Your kenseikan look very pointy in this lighting.”

“Tell Rukia she looks lovely,” Renji deadpanned.

Shuuhei turned an adoring gaze to Izuru. “And Lady Rukia, I must say, you look _radiant_ this evening.”

“Are you making fun of me or are you flirting with Izuru?” Renji scowled.

“It’s a _mystery_!”

“That reminds me,” Izuru broke in. “You should probably bring a gift.”

“A _gift?_ ” Renji exclaimed. “But the captain is way richer than me! That’s unfair!”

“Yeah, and that makes it kinda tricky. The traditional thing to do is to direct the gift to Rukia. Flowers are fine, but make sure you know what they mean. Ask the florist. No camellias! I know they're your squad flower, but they also symbolize romantic love."

"I _know_ that," Renji grumbled.

"Nice booze is also a safe choice. Good sake or plum wine. Fancy chocolate. Seasonal fruit.”

“Is that why Rukia always has posh booze these days?”

“How would I know? Does she?”

“I think so. It always has fancy labels. We still go out to the overlook and drink it straight from the bottle, though.”

Momo shook her head and stared at Izuru. “They haven’t changed at all, have they?” 

“No! Not even a little!”

“Man,” Shuuhei mused. “Between this and the shamisen thing, I had no idea Rukia was such a catch.”

Renji pointed a finger at him. “No. Do not even think about it.”

“I am your friend, I would never,” Shuuhei replied, a portrait of innocence. “But she might not be on the market forever, you know. If you don’t ask her out sooner or later, someone’s gonna beat you to it.”

Renji looked a little stricken.

“No one is asking my sister out until we finish my dinner party!” Momo announced. “Where were we? Oh, yes, both of you have neglected to bring my sister gifts. Shame! Shame upon your houses. Now, I will start eating, so everyone else can start eating.”

Good redirect, Momo, Izuru thought to himself. The last thing they needed was Renji to start panicking again.

“I finished my food a while ago, can I go get more?” Shuuhei asked, standing up.

“I actually did, too,” Momo admitted. “Bring the whole pan back, wouldja?”

“Izuru, seconds?” Shuuhei asked, on his way past.

“Yes, please,” Izuru nodded, “but I’m leaving as soon as the food is gone, though, so Momo, just start the conversation.”

Momo cleared her throat, sat up straight, and glared at Renji with frighteningly accurate intensity. “So, my slothful lieutenant,” Momo drawled. “What exactly are your intentions regarding my sister?”

Renji looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. So much for diffusing the tension.

“Come _on_ , Momo,” Izuru grumbled irritably. 

“He wouldn’t ask that,” Renji murmured. “Not in front of Rukia. He’s not _that_ mean.”

“He wouldn’t ask that, because I bet he doesn’t want to know,” Hisagi added.

Momo did not look the least bit sorry. “ _That_ was the first thing Izuru’s sister asked me when he brought me to dinner.”

Izuru was suddenly very interested in his dinner. “I already told everyone she was mean.”

“Yikes, what did you say?” Hisagi asked breathlessly.

Momo cocked her head to one side. “Well, luckily for me, I didn’t actually have any designs on him. I told her that my long term intention was to make captain together, and in the meantime, I was hoping to get him through this awkward family dinner. She laughed and has liked me ever since.”

Izuru sighed. “I asked Momo to marry me on the way home. She turned me down.”

Momo snorted. “It’s true, he did.” She gave Renji, who still looked traumatized, a sympathetic look. “Look, sweetie, I really shouldn’t have done that to you. Your face. Your face right now.”

“It’s real sad,” Hisagi noted.

“It’s real sad,” Momo agreed. “But you gotta have an answer to that question. He’s gonna ask you one of these days. This,” she gestured at the sad face, “is just about the worst answer you could give.”

“You can lie, you know,” Hisagi suggested. “You’re one of the best liars I’ve ever seen, mostly because you have the face of a person who is a terrible liar.”

“Was taught by the best,” Renji finally managed to find his tongue. “The problem is… the problem is that I don’t want to say anything that’s gonna come back to bite me when… when…”

“When you actually do show up with an armful of camellias and tell Captain Kuchiki exactly what your intentions are toward his sister?” Izuru suggested firmly.

“Yeah. When I do that.”

“C’mon, buddy,” Momo encouraged. “Let’s try again, okay? I’ll start easier this time. You’re gonna do great. Think about, um, Rukia, being, um... whatever it is you like about Rukia.”

Renji set his jaw and nodded firmly. “Yeah. Okay. Okay, I’m ready. Hit me.”

Momo cleared her throat and put on her Captain Kuchiki face again. “Good gravy, Abarai, did you see the Bulletin’s coverage of the Seireitei Art Museum Gala last month? They photographed me from the left side, I was outraged. It is a rag, is it not?”

“Hey!” Shuuhei protested.

“She didn’t address you,” Izuru pointed out.

Renji cleared his throat, getting back on his game. “So, a) of all, Captain Kuchiki would love to be photographed from the left, it’s his ‘good hair side.’ b) They never do, because they always wanna get the kenseikan in the shot. Putting that aside,” he changed his tone of voice, “it’s too bad Lady Rukia was unable to accompany you this year, sir. I’m sure she would have had so many delightful opinions on the outfits.”

Izuru squinted at him. “Is that a joke? Are you making some sort of inside joke? At Captain Kuchiki?”

“The Seireitei Art Museum Gala is the one where there’s a theme and all the snobs wear gonzo outfits, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Momo agreed. “The theme this year was ‘Confectionary.’”

Renji cracked a genuine grin. “Can you imagine Rukia and her brother, boozin’ it up in the corner, deadpanning to each other about all those weird hats and capes? I bet they’d have a blast.”

Izuru considered his old friend carefully as Momo launched into another conversational scenario. Renji had always had more going on under the hood than one might guess from all the questionable fashion sense and self-deprecating humor. He might be short on the finer points of upper class manners, but what he _did_ have was an incredibly thorough understanding of the man he was trying to impress. Maybe this wasn’t so hopeless after all.

“--have you resumed your ikebana classes that I make you go to for absolutely no reason?”

“I have, actually, sir. I don’t like to brag, y’know, but Captain Unohana described my flower arrangement this week as,” Renji leaned forward conspiratorially “‘very tall.’” 

Strike that. This was going to take a miracle.

~ end part 7


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Rukia, First Daughter of the Kuchiki, entertains Lieutenant Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain of the Sixth Division for dinner. Captain Kuchiki learns a few things about his adjutant.

* * *

* * *

Renji arrived at Kuchiki Manor at 6:45pm. He had actually arrived at 6:40, but that seemed too early, so he stood at the front door for five minutes before knocking. The doorman, who surely knew he had been there the entire time, let him in immediately, and escorted him to a parlor where Rukia and Byakuya were sitting and chatting quietly. 

"Lieutenant Abarai," the footman announced, and disappeared again. 

Both Kuchiki siblings rose at his entrance, and Renji felt his mouth go dry. He didn't belong here. This was insane. He wanted to turn around and walk straight back to the Eleventh. Except, he realized with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he didn't belong there anymore either, and to be honest, he didn't actually want to go back. He was the assistant captain of Sixth Company, and this was a thing the assistant captain of Sixth Company did. He was pretty good at most of the other parts of being the assistant captain of Sixth Company, he was just going to have to figure this out, too. 

Then he caught sight of Rukia, _Lady_ Rukia for the next hour, he reminded himself. Her kimono was flattering and her hair charmingly arrayed, but it was her facial expression that did him in: the pleased look in her eyes, the relaxed eyebrows, the little half-smile. He'd shown up looking okay, apparently, and that gave him the little shove he needed to tackle the next hurdle. 

Renji bowed, holding out the bundle of snow drops he had brought for her. He was going to say it. He tried to remember facing down Aizen, he’d somehow gotten his mouth to work that day. It wasn't helping. "Good evening, Lady Rukia," he managed stiffly. "Thank you for inviting me." She relieved him of the flowers graciously. He straightened and stared her dead in the eye. "You look very lovely tonight!" He sounded like he was criticizing the shoddy battle stance of one of his subordinates. It’s good enough, he told himself, at least I got it out.

Rukia’s mouth quirked up with suppressed laughter. She regarded him over the top of her flowers. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant Abarai, you look very handsome yourself."

His cheeks blazing scarlet, Renji turned abruptly towards his captain, bowing deeply. "Good evening to you, too, Captain, you also look very handsome!" That was wrong. Oh, shit. That was definitely wrong. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed to Byakuya, looking horrified. 

The captain nodded with a pained facial expression, but otherwise ignoring the faux pas. “Welcome to our home, Lieutenant. You are… certainly wearing a haori.”

Renji looked down self-consciously at his outfit. He was wearing his best kimono, which usually only saw action on New Year’s, but his old haori was looking a little worse-for-wear, especially up close, so he’d borrowed one. It was a little more ostentatious than he would have preferred, emerald green, embroidered with gold cranes at the hem and sleeves. It was also a tiny bit short in the arms, but he had thought it would do. “It’s too much, eh?”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Rukia assured him, glaring at her brother.

“It’s too much,” Byakuya mouthed back to him.

Renji nodded anxiously.

A servant showed up at the door. “The dining room is prepared,” he announced.

Renji breathed out as Byakuya led the way. 

“Relax,” Rukia mouthed to him, pausing a moment to give Renji's haori a little tug. “And don’t listen to him, I like it.”

“It’s Iba’s,” Renji admitted.

Rukia smirked at him, which to be honest, made him feel a little better.

They paraded into the dining room, and as expected, Byakuya and Rukia each took one end of the table, and Renji took the spot to Byakuya’s right. He watched Byakuya out of the corner of his eye, and sat a moment after his host. Byakuya nodded, almost imperceptibly. 

A servant placed a tray of food in front of him. It was very...arranged. It looked like an art project. He didn't want to eat it. Someone had worked so hard on this. 

"Ah, what a delight to return to spring cuisine," Byakuya commented. "Although heavy stews or the fire of a good curry are always warming on a cold day, I prefer the lighter delicacy of a vernal meal."

Renji stared at his captain, baffled. The only time his captain ever got going like this was when he was lecturing an enemy on their arrogance. Was that what this was? A battle?

"I do so enjoy a clam miso soup, and the long absence only serves to enhance the flavor of the shellfish with that most pungent seasoning, nostalgia."

Renji's eyes darted to Rukia, hoping for some hint as to how to react. She was gripping her chopsticks and glaring at Byakuya, who did not appear to notice her. Ah! She was waiting for him to start eating, and he was stalling, trying to make his dumb ol' lieutenent screw up, Renji realized. Well, he wasn't gonna. First point goes to the Dumb Ol' Lieutenant.

"And what is your favorite seasonal delicacy, Lieutenant?" Byakuya asked.

The right answer was probably seared swallow wings or some damn thing he'd never heard of. Renji might be dumb, but he wasn't dumb enough to pretend to know about fancy shit in front of the All-Time King Fancy-Shit Knower of Soul Society. "Don’t know if it’s my favorite, but I got some nice shirasu down at the fish market this weekend. Had 'em with some bamboo shoots, real lightly sauteed. Felt very springtime-y."

Captain Kuchiki stared at him like he'd just sprouted a second head.

"That sounds delightfully seasonal," Rukia said, a bit too loudly. As if she hadn't eaten most of it herself. Renji got the message, though: she didn't want him to mention that she'd been coming over for dinner. As if he were that stupid. 

“Sounds a bit rustic to me,” Byakuya replied.

“I hear rustic is the big trend these days,” Rukia continued. “I read an article about it in the Bulletin.”

“I do not care for fads. Dining should be a very classical experience.”

Were… were Rukia and Byakuya arguing over his cooking?

“You know what would be really trendy?” Rukia replied sweetly. “If we could eat while our food was still hot.”

“Ah, I was so distracted by this charming conversation,” Byakuya replied, equally sweetly, but putting his hands together. “Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu,” Rukia and Renji echoed together. 

Byakuya picked up his chopsticks, but then paused over his soup. “Who is doing restaurant critique at the Bulletin these days?”

Rukia looked blank.

“It’s Captain Outoribashi, actually,” Renji supplied. Point number two to Lieutenant Dumbass.

Byakuya’s brows creased. “The man has been out of the loop for over a century.”

“I guess he thought it would be a good way to get back into it. He makes Lieutenant Kira go with him.”

Rukia made a suppressed snorting noise in her nose.

“Hmm,” Byakuya replied thoughtfully, finally picking up his soup and tasting it.

Renji glanced at Rukia, who shot him a relieved eye roll, and started in on her own. Okay. Everyone else was eating, he could eat now. He examined his tray. There was soup. There was fish. There were some pickled greens. There was a grassy thing that looked like cabbage, except Renji was used to shredded cabbage in a big heap, and this was carved extremely carefully and lined up in bundles like miniature hay bales. No one would spend that much energy on cabbage, would they? Shit. Momo had warned him that sometimes in fancy dining, there were “garnishes” that were sometimes okay to eat and sometimes not. Was this a garnish? There was also a radish carved to look like a flower. That seemed like a garnish. But it was also a radish, so that one could go either way, too.

Renji glanced at Rukia, trying to catch her eye. Her eyebrows creased. He picked up a cabbage cube with his chopsticks and slowly moved it toward his mouth, waiting for a reaction from her. She looked deeply confused.

Fuck. In their youth, in the high grifting days of their adolescence, they had developed a complicated non-verbal language of hand signs and facial tics. He knew how to ask her if the back door was unguarded or if Byakuya had any cash on his person, but they didn’t have one for “is this a garnish or not?” They were going to need to come up with a whole new set.

Renji put the cabbage back down and picked up the radish flower instead and did the same motion. Rukia frowned deeply, and shook her head frantically. Renji put it back down, and pointed to the cabbage again. Rukia’s mouth formed into an understanding “oh” and she gave him an encouraging nod. 

Renji took a bite. It was definitely cabbage. He looked up suddenly, and realized that Byakuya was staring at him. Captain Kuchiki’s eyes slid to Rukia, and then back to Renji. “This is really good cabbage,” Renji announced. “Very creative. Tying it up, all neat like that.” Did Byakuya get a point for that, or did Renji lose one? Maybe he should stop trying to keep score.

Byakuya cleared his throat. “So, Lieutenant. I hear the Futsal League Championships concluded this week. Do you have any opinions on the results?”

Renji chewed his cabbage very thoroughly, thinking frantically. Of course he had opinions on the results. He had _bags_ of opinions on the results. But Izuru and Momo had specifically warned him against talking about futsal. Was this a _trap_? He took a long sip of tea.

“While obviously, I wish our squad had managed to qualify for the play-offs instead of _utterly falling apart_ _while I was gone_ , I was pleased to see Ten take the cup. They are a very hard-working club and Captain Hitsugaya puts a lot of thought and care into his strategic play.”

“I don’t think captains should be allowed to participate,” Byakuya opined.

“Well, he’s the only one who does,” Renji frowned. “I don’t really see a problem with it.” He probably shouldn’t say the next part, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean, you would be welcome to join our squad if you wanted to.”

“I just said I felt it was unjust," Byakuya sniffed. "Why should I go against my principles?”

Renji shrugged. “To make a point. To completely dominate for a single season, and then get banned. Seems like the sort of thing you’d like.” He shouldn’t have said that. He definitely shouldn’t have said that.

And yet… Byakuya seemed to be considering it.

“Do you even know how to play futsal, Brother?” Rukia asked curiously.

“It cannot be hard.”

“There’s no spiritual pressure enhancement allowed,” Renji pointed out. “You bring your muscles and that’s it. Also, you have to wear shorts.” Byakuya had made his opinions on shorts well-known in the past, namely that they were an abomination unto Soul Society and that visible knees had no place in polite company.

“Hmmph, that doesn’t sound very interesting at all.”

“It’s pretty fun,” Rukia pointed out. “I’m thinking about putting a team together for next season, once I’m vice-captain. We have enough players, but Kiyone and Sentarou are always too disorganized when sign-ups roll around.”

“Really?” Renji asked, eyes wide. 

“I wasn’t so bad in the old days,” Rukia shrugged.

“No! No, you were great! That-- that would be awesome! I didn’t think-- I would love it! The league could really use another team. Do you think you would play pivot? You have such a strong shot.” He was babbling and he couldn’t stop. Byakuya was going to stab him in the face in a minute and he was going to die in the most Renji way possible, gushing about Rukia and futsal at the same time.

“You’d have to play against me, you know,” Rukia teased. “I only want to play so I can see your dumb loser face when I score on you.”

Byakuya cleared his throat, and Rukia and Renji abruptly straightened up.

“That sounds lovely, Lady Rukia, I quite look forward to it,” Renji announced stiffly.

Rukia tried to look serious, but she couldn't stop smiling or looking at him. Renji's heart flip-flopped. She was so beautiful. He was making a huge fool of himself in front of his captain, and it was all worth it, to see her like this.

Rukia took a bite of the pickle, and then blinked, her face truly serious, now. “Brother, the nozawana is quite spicy today.”

Byakuya cocked his head to the side. “Truly? It is a bit piquant, but I would hardly think that with your palate--”

“Not everyone likes spicy things, Brother,” Rukia bit off, her eyes darting toward Renji.

Byakuya stared at Renji, a weird sort of fake concern on his face. “You do not care for spicy food, Lieutenant?”

“Well, it’s not my favorite,” Renji excused, “but it would be boorish of me not to enjoy this meal in its entirety, as the chef intended.” 

Byakuya blinked at him and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

Oh. Oh shit. Renji realized, belatedly, that he had just quoted one of Byakuya's etiquette columns, word-for-word. Had Byakuya caught him on it, or was he just wondering why that phrase sounded so familiar? As a distraction Renji stuffed a massive bite of pickle in his mouth.

It was “a bit piquant” in the way that Ryuujin Jakka was a little bit on fire. But Renji had endured a lot of physical pain in his life, he could take this. His eyes were watering, but he managed to maintain a straight face. Rukia was watching him like she expected him to start heaving any second. Byakuya was also watching him with an air of bored curiosity, which was slowly morphing into horror. Carefully, Renji swallowed, feeling the pickle burn all the way down his throat. Still. It was not worse than being shredded by Senbonzakura. At least there was some use for having that benchmark in his life.

“Renji, are you okay?” Rukia asked, abandoning her formal tone of voice.

“Please do not injure yourself, Lieutenant,” Byakuya added.

“I’m… good,” Renji croaked, after a long sip of tea. “Maybe we could talk about something. Instead of everyone lookin’ at how bad my face looks right now.”

Rukia let out a long sigh.

A servant very discreetly placed a fresh cup of tea in front of Renji. “Thanks,” he nodded, and chugged that one, too. One _million_ points to the Assistant Dumbass of Squad 6.

“I have been dominating the conversation,” Byakuya announced, not sounding the least bit sorry about it. “Rukia, you know your guest better than I, perhaps you could suggest a topic that perhaps he could tell us something new and interesting about.”

Rukia shot Byakuya a look that very clearly said, ‘You share an office with this guy, you see him _every day_ , _are you kidding me_?’ while she swallowed the (overlarge) bite she was currently working on. Fortunately, Rukia seemed prepared for this possibility, and already had a topic at hand.

“You’ve always been such an avid reader, Lieutenant Abarai, what book is keeping you up late at night these days?”

This was the second time she had addressed him by his title, and it sent a little shiver down his spine each time. Did she feel the same way when he called her Lady Rukia? Probably not, judging by the face she usually made when he did it. Byakuya regarded him curiously while he tried to get his tongue back in order.

“Ah, well, I’ve been a bit overtaxed, catching up at work, you know,” he stumbled. _Don’t talk about work!_ Kira’s voice scolded him. “So, I, uh, admit that I’ve been retreating into old favorites. Got an urge to re-read ‘War Between the Oak and the River.’ It’s like visitin’ a friend you haven’t seen in a while, y’know?”

Rukia’s eye twitched. Why had she even asked him this? She _hated_ listening to him carry on about his favorite books. 

“Did you know, Lieutenant,” Byakuya broke in, “that is also one of _my_ favorites?”

“You don’t say,” Renji replied mildly. Of _course_ he knew it was one of Byakuya’s favorites. Was he an _amateur_? Oh! Oh, wait! _That_ was why Rukia had asked about books. Cripes, he was lucky to have her on his side.

“Rukia and I attended a theatrical performance based on it several years ago,” Byakuya went on.

“Hmm, was it any good?”

“The adaptation was faithful, but there was an inclusion of musical numbers that I did not care for.”

“There are an awful lot of songs written into the text.”

“Oh, I approved of the songs in principle, I simply found their arrangements to be insipid. The actor who played Mamushi was simply brilliant, though. I hear he will be portraying Yamasachihiko in a production of ‘Cormorant House’ later this summer, I am very much looking forward to it.”

“That’s some range,” Renji commented, tasting some of the main dish, a lightly vinegared sayori. It was probably the best piece of fish he had ever eaten, and he was a little sorry that he'd already burned off most of his tastebuds with the nozawana.

“This is the postmodernist novel, ‘Cormorant House’, it came out maybe twenty years ago--”

“I read it,” Renji assured him. He glanced over to Rukia quickly, suddenly fearful that he was fucking this up and hadn’t even noticed. She looked strangely smug. He looked back to Byakuya. “Not usually much for postmodernism, but I liked that one a lot, maybe because it was a folktale reinterpretation. I always go in for that stuff. I, uh, did a lot of reading when I was in Squad 11. Good use of your rest days, I always said.” 

Byakuya was still regarding him like some sort of stranger who just happened to have his lieutenant’s distinctive haircut. 

“Anyway,” Renji said, nodding to Rukia. “Back to ‘War Between the Oak and the River’. I’m almost up to your favorite part.”

“Where the possessed suit of armor attacks the castle?” Rukia asked.

Now Byakuya was staring at _Rukia_ as though this were the inverted world. “They cut that part from the play.”

“A travesty,” Rukia announced.

“But how did you know of it?”

“I’ve read your boring old favorite book, Brother.” She paused to take a sip of tea. “Renji made me.”

Byakuya’s eyes darted between them.

“It was a fluke, I’m sure,” Renji replied. To be honest, he couldn’t remember how he had convinced Rukia to make through an eleven-hundred page semi-historical novel that tended to take deep swerves into poetry written in an invented tree-people language. He _did_ remember her attempting to make sure that particular literary journey was as painful for him as it was for her. It hadn't worked, though, the memory of being poked and kicked and complained at was swathed in a pleasant haze of cozy togetherness. When _had_ that happened? “It was very thoughtful, _Lady Rukia_ ,” he added, “to take time out of reading your dust-covered medieval kidou texts to try to relate to your brother and myself.”

“Maybe you should try reading one of my ‘dust-covered medieval kidou texts’, sometime, _Lieutenant Abarai_ ,” Rukia returned. “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure it could,” Renji assured her. “You know I’m banned from the public kidou butts, right?” _Do not talk about the time you got banned from the public kidou butts!!_ Momo and Izuru’s simultaneous voices rang in his head.

Byakuya had unwisely chosen that moment to take a sip of his soup, and he sat, frozen, his bowl at this lips. Renji could not gauge his captain’s expression in the least, beyond “trying very hard not to spit out soup.”

Renji cleared his throat. “Er, my apologies, sir. That’s not an appropriate story for polite company.”

Rukia’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened eagerly.

Byakuya couldn’t manage to swallow his soup, and his face was turning a little bit red.

Renji backpedaled furiously. “I mean! It wasn’t anything indecent, just kinda dirtbaggy! I did set someone on fire, but to be fair, it was Captain Kyouraku. I am going to stop talking now, nothing I say is making this any better.”

Byakuya set his bowl down with a loud _clunk_ , and with grace and self-possession only the 28th Head of the Kuchiki Clan could manage, forced his soup down his throat. “If you do not relate this incident immediately, I am going to fire you. Do not omit any details.”

Renji glanced over at Rukia, who was leaning forward, her chin propped on one hand, an expression of rapt (and utterly sarcastic) interest on her face.

“Well…” he said slowly. “I guess I should start with Lieutenant Kira’s birthday party...”

* * *

_They were barely out the doorway when he grabbed Hisana by her upper arms, and spun her up against the wall, pressing his lips to hers. “You did so well,” he murmured._

_“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she shot back._

_“I… I didn’t know,” he said, running his fingers through her hair._

_“I’m a businesswoman, Byakuya, I know how to act at a fancy dinner. And in case you didn’t notice, your grandfather_ hates _me.”_

_“He hates everyone. You were so gracious to him. You’ve probably got nasty comebacks spilling out your ears by now.” He ran a hand up the side of her face and gazed at her fondly. “I want to hear all of them.”_

_She returned a sad smile. “I don’t know, Rich Boy. Are you sure this is what you want? Tense family dinners and your granddad steamed at you constantly?”_

_He pressed a kiss into her throat, just under her jawbone. “He’s an old man made entirely of dust and cobwebs. I don’t care about him, I only care about you.”_

_She sighed, but leaned into his kisses, and began carding her fingers through his hair. "Ahh, what have I gotten myself into?_

Byakuya sat at his desk and pulled out a clean sheet of fine paper. He mixed up some ink, and set it to the side. He did not yet pick up his brush. 

It had been a while since he had written to her. He had, of course, informed her when Rukia returned from her mission, but since then, he had been remiss. 

Byakuya had begun the practice a few months after Hisana's death. His grandfather had stepped back, giving him command of the Sixth, hoping it would distract him. It did, in the daylight hours, but then he would come home bursting with things to tell her... and suddenly remember. He would dwell on it, become maudlin, fall deeper and deeper into his grief. 

Instead, he found he could short-circuit the process if he sat down immediately and wrote her a missive, as though she were simply off on one of her Rukongai trips again. Was it foolish? Childish, even, like the drawings he would make for his father after Soujon's untimely passing? Perhaps, but it kept his productivity up overall, and he found that it would occasionally inspire a haiku, which meant he could write it off as _part of the creative process_.

Then, one day, he came home and composed a letter that consisted of just a few, brief lines: “I have located your sister. Her name is Rukia. She is coming to live with me."

He did not write any more letters after that, not for a long time. It was not until he lay in bed, recovering from a sword wound to the chest, that a second pain shot through his heart. He had spent forty years with Hisana’s sister, and he had told his wife none of it. Hisana had fretted over her mysterious sibling constantly-- what was her name? What did she look like? Had she managed to surpass Hisana’s hated, tiny stature? (no) Was she quiet or loud? Kind? Clever? Funny? 

The fact was, Byakuya didn’t know the answer to many of these questions, not at the time, but what he knew, he put down on paper. He resolved to be a better husband in the future, as well as a better brother.

He did not write often, but a half dozen more letters joined that one over the following months, and now, it was time to write again. He did not particularly want to write this letter, but it was always pleasant to write to Hisana, even on unpleasant topics.

“My dearest Hisana,” he began. “Your ridiculous sister entertained a guest for dinner this evening.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It was my adjutant. I believe I have mentioned him in passing before, but I have avoided going into detail, as I do not enjoy thinking about him when I do not have to. The fact of the matter is, Rukia is quite fond of him, and I feel I have been remiss, as she surely would have mentioned him to you by this time.

“This is, of course, the same Lieutenant Abarai who accompanied her to Hueco Mundo and on her more recent clandestine mission, both of which I have described to you previously. It pains me very much to write this, but I am sure you would approve of him wholeheartedly, between his unwavering devotion to your sister, his atrocious Rukongonian mannerisms, and the grief that he brings me on a daily basis. He is, unsurprisingly, from Inuzuri.”

Byakuya paused. He could practically see Hisana sitting across his desk from him, slapping her hand on the desk, demanding details. He sighed heavily.

“I assure you, Hisana, that there is nothing untoward in his relationship with Rukia, do not get overexcited. Despite his coarse upbringing, for all his rough edges, he knows his station well. He spent decades becoming strong enough to become worthy of being in the Sixth Squadron, and he has been (slowly) working to pick up the norms and formalities of associating with the class to which he has been elevated. (It makes no sense to me whatsoever that we treat highly ranked shinigami as petit nobility without requiring them to make a study of the etiquette required by such a station). In any case, your sister greatly enjoys his company, so perhaps I can continue to trick him into coming over so I can whip some manners into him.”

Byakuya frowned thoughtfully. It was a bit unusual, now that he thought of it, how much effort Abarai put into acclimating to the culture of the Sixth. Abarai knew all the members of the squad, who belonged to which branch family, whose uncle had offended whose father six generations ago. There was his deft handling of the detestable Noragashi the other week. Byakuya had jokingly put Abarai in charge of his agenda after that, only to find a large number of irritations suddenly missing from his schedule, as if by magic, and many of his other meetings consolidated into neat time blocks that left the rest of his day clear of distractions. There was one other thing... something that Byakuya had noticed, but been unable to put his finger on, watching him work with Gotou. It would come to him eventually.

Other common vice-captains did not do this. That rough fellow over at the Ninth didn’t even appear to own a shirt with _sleeves_ , to say nothing of the trash at the Eleventh. Nothing about Abarai’s aspect-- the wild hair, the flamboyant tattoos, the _sunglasses_ , suggested that he was a man with the least bit of interest in a more refined life, and yet…

Byakuya had been hoping to avoid putting it to paper, as if that would make it more real, but there was another thing that had been bothering him, and he wished for his wife’s counsel on the matter.

“Perhaps I was untruthful earlier. I do have a singular concern about his intentions towards our beloved Rukia. He wrote her a poem. He is a buffoon, Hisana, a man who has produced a significant body of absolutely contemptible verse. The poem in question was composed under some amount of duress. I am surely reading too much into it. But if I did not know him so well, I would have said it was the type of poem"

Byakuya paused, then crossed out the last partial sentence he had written, and replaced it with, "But I do know a thing or two about the kinds of poems a young man writes to a young lady of his acquaintance."

He stared at the words he had written for a long minute. Then he added,

“Stop laughing at me, Hisana. I love you very much. I wish you were here, both so that you could mock me for my foolishness, and to talk some sense into that sister of yours. She is turning my hair grey, which I know would cause you no end of distress. I do not wish to go into the details at this time-- I have had a pleasant evening, and writing about my loathsome assistant captain has been taxing enough. I promise I shall write again soon.

“With affection,

“Byakuya.”

* * *

“You did _so well_ ,” Rukia exclaimed, thumping Renji on the shoulders.

“Can we just do flash cards?” he mumbled.

“ _No!_ I need to exclaim over you, first!”

Renji sighed. “I screwed up a bunch.”

“Well, sure, but you did a lot right, too. I tell you, he expected you to show up and eat with your hands and tell Squad 11 stories.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Rukia tilted her head at him. “Let me put it this way: you made a much better impression than _my_ first dinner with him.”

Renji remembered Rukia’s youthful ways quite clearly. He could imagine how badly it might have gone. “I feel like he was being soft on me.”

“I thought so, too,” Rukia frowned. “Even before you won him over with that bananas story about Kyouraku. I know he was making a lot of faces while you told it, but believe me, he loved it. I mean, that’s good, I suppose. The being soft part, not the faces. Maybe. I don’t know what it means.” She stuck out her lip. “He had _dessert_ for you.”

“Don’t rich people have dessert all the time? If I were rich, that’s the first thing I’d do.”

“It is not, the first thing you would do is buy expensive sunglasses. Then you would have dessert all the time. And in any case, no, we only have dessert for very specific guests. Even Captain Ukitake only gets dessert _sometimes_.” Rukia tapped her chin with an index finger. “Now, I did sweet talk the cook into making dessert regularly when Orihime was staying with us, so maybe he just figured I like dessert for my guests. I don’t have a lot of guests.”

“That seems more likely than your brother having noticed anything about my eating habits.”

“Speaking of which, how in Soul Society did you choke that nozawana down? I hope it doesn’t give you tummy troubles later.”

Renji rolled his eyes. "I am not a child anymore, Rukia, I am an adult with a sophisticated palate."

She turned the full force of Rukia Skepticism on him.

He folded instantly. "Do you know how many times I have been stabbed? I have been stabbed so many times. It was not worse than being stabbed."

A look came over Rukia's face, a look of gratitude and fondness and… and…

"It's no big deal," he grumbled, flipping through his flashcards. How was he supposed to sit here and help her study, with her dressed up all beautiful and wearing makeup and looking just…just _perfect_ while he was…. while he was also dressed up all fancy, actually, even if he wasn't quite pulling it off as well. She must see handsome, dressed-up guys all the time, surely he still looked like a slob to her. He glanced up again. She was still fucking _gazing_ at him, and he was suddenly reminded of the look on her face the first time he put on his Academy uniform.

You dumbass, Renji thought to himself in a voice that sounded strangely like Yumichika's. It's pretty obvious she likes what she sees. If you don't, maybe instead of just feeling bad about yourself, you could _up your game_.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I want to apologize, also.”

Rukia’s brows bunched in genuine confusion. “Apologize? For what?”

“Well, when I first got here, and I told you that you looked lovely?”

Rukia’s cheeks colored slightly. “Oh, that’s just a thing people say. Who even uses that word in actual conversation? I know you didn’t--”

“Kira told me to say that and I boned it super hard,” Renji interrupted firmly. “You looked very beautiful tonight.”

Rukia trailed off, her mouth hanging open. Renji wasn’t sure he’d ever managed to knock her for a loop like that before. It was just about the most adorable face he’d ever seen her make, surprised and bashful and maybe just a little bit… happy. His heart went warm and soft. Feeling immensely proud of himself, he decided to hit her with the old Rukongai cool guy act that had never fooled her, not even once. "I'm gonna get invited back, aren't I?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant about it, instead of the weird blend of nervousness and excitement that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach.

Rukia nodded eagerly. "Certainly if I have anything to say about it." Her face fell a little. “That is, if you want to. You sounded into it the other day, but--"

"I guess I need to go haori shopping, then," he cut her off, ignoring her waffling. "What a pain.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were bright and hopeful. “Don't suppose you might wanna come along and give opinions?" 

Rukia's eyes went wide, and she nodded again, even more eagerly than before. "You bet!"

* * *

The next morning, for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on, Rukia felt like a complete featherbrain. In part, it was because, after over a week of sleeping normally, she had definitely had seaside dreams again. She called them that because the only clear memory she could hold onto when she awoke was the tang of salt air in her nose. She would wake up in a pleasant fog of comfort and hominess, panic when she realized she wasn't where she thought she was, and then have to remind herself that she was, in fact, at home. A great way to start the day.

But it wasn't just the dreams. All of dinner the night before held much of the same paradoxical discomfort. She spent a lot of time with Renji and she spent a lot of time with Byakuya, and sometimes she forgot how much time they spent with each other, except that none of them were using their familiar rhythms. 

And on top of all of this, as strange and clumsy and embarrassing as it had been, it had also been _nice_. She liked Renji in all his horrible states, and she liked this new one, too: scrubbed and earnest, looking as clean-cut as she had ever seen him, trying so hard to be respectable. He had an almost boy-next-doorish appeal that seemed utterly at odds with every single thing she knew about him. And Byakuya, who very well could have humiliated his poor lieutenant into a _paste_ , had instead, humored him as some sort of amusing novelty, whether for Renji's or for her own sake, she couldn't tell. The fact was, they were the two most important people in her life right now, and sitting around a table together carried exactly the opposite feeling of a seaside dream: foreign and uncomfortable, but also very much like home.

On the bright side, of all the days to be a featherbrain, maybe today wasn't the worst. She reached up and tapped on the doorframe. "Kuchiki Rukia here to see Lieutenant Matsumoto!" she called.

"Come iiii-iiiin!" Matsumoto's voice called back.

Rukia pushed the shoji opened, but to her surprise, both desks were empty. The entire room smelled strongly of nail polish.

"Over here!" Rangiku called, and Rukia's eyes swiveled over to a battered green couch that sat in the corner of the office. It reminded Rukia a _lot_ of the one in the Kurosaki living room. "I can't get up, you see, because of my toesies." Rangiku's feet were propped up on the table, wads of cotton stuffed between each toe.

"You were... expecting me, right?" Rukia asked tentatively.

"Of course!" Matsumoto replied, gesturing at the array of varnishes she had spread out on the table. "I brought some colors I thought would work with your complexion! Come sit!"

Rukia tentatively made her way over to that corner of the room. "Uh, I'll pass. I always end up chipping it."

"Oh, we can use the Squad 11 method, I've got some of the clearcoat Yumichika swears by."

"The _what_?"

Rangiku groaned. "Ugggghh, what is Abarai even _good_ for? Hasn’t he taught you _any_ thing? He's dialled his whole look back so much since he got promoted, it's a _crime,_ I swear."

"I thought I was here to learn about," Rukia consulted her schedule, "leadership?" That did not seem correct. She refused to let her brain consider Rangiku's previous statement, lest it break completely in half.

"Oh, we are! I was just multitasking. That's part of leadership. Also, the captain doesn't like the smell, so I try to do this when he's out. That's because I'm a considerate subordinate, also part of leadership." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He could be back any minute, though. He went to go see Hinamori, and lately, their little visits have _not been ending well_." She singsonged the last bit. 

"That's not really any of my business," Rukia replied, trying not to sound too judgemental.

Rangiku made a very feline smile as she examined the fingernail she had just finished. "It's a good thing you came to see me," she said. "Did Abarai make you a binder? If not you can have the one he gave me, _I_ certainly don't need it." She gestured with one foot at the binder sitting amid all the nail care ephemera, labeled "Gotei-13 Personnel Management Standards and Guidelines. It had a little sticky note on the front with a tiny Renji doodled on it. He was shaking a finger and had a voice bubble that said “Stick to the material!!!”

"Yeah I have that one," she agreed. “Mine didn’t have a sticky.”

“Right, so that’s what’s going to be on the test. Memorize it.”

Rukia blinked at her. She… had not expected that.

Rangiku noticed Rukia’s surprise. “I can tell you’re a nerd, you know how to memorize things. You don’t need my help with that. You need my help knowing what to _do_ with it.”

Rangiku selected another bottle of nail polish. "As a vice-captain, those rules are your weapons. You should know them. I certainly do. For example, a shihakushou should cross over the chest at a point no lower than three inches below the clavicle. She looked Rukia in the eye. "Also, vice-captains and captains are not subject to most dress standards, including that one. Also, dress code is ultimately at the captain's discretion, as enforced by the vice-captain, which is why all of Squad 9 is guns-out twelve months a year. Shuuhei has a little _cardigan_ he wears when it gets cold in the office, it's _adorable_."

"Is this really--"

"Dating between seated and unseated officers. Mission team selection criteria. Disciplinary process. Appealing the disciplinary process. It's all very straightforward written down on paper, and very, very messy when you're trying to apply it to actual shinigami." She blew on a nail. "You need to decide what kind of leader you want to be. You can be like Ise or Iba, stick to the letter of the law. You have to be tough to pull it off, but it works. It's consistent and people respect it. You can be a pushover, like two people I know who are currently trying to rebuild their squads now that they have actually functional captains to back them up. I don't recommend that. You can throw your weight around like Omaeda does, and everyone will hate you, not that he cares. You can not give a shit, and run a chaos brigade, you'd hardly be the first one."

"Or?"

Rangiku's lips curled into a grin. "Or you can be a leader. You can look at the people you have and the culture you want to have, and figure out how to make it happen. But in order to do that, you need to know all the rules in that dumb binder _and_ you need to make _everything_ that goes on in your squad _your business_."

"Oh," Rukia said softly. "I'm not really much for gossip." 

"It's probably better if you aren't," Rangiku noted. “ _I_ love gossip. I am fun and easy to talk to. However, it is _known_ that I know everything that happens around here, and I do not tolerate people treating each other poorly. People would much rather I handle their problems than the captain, so they have an incentive to work with me to find solutions to their problems. You know what other squad works basically the same way?”

Rukia ran through the squads in her head and came up with a shrug.

“Eleven.”

“ _Eleven?”_ Rukia gasped. “No way! I have heard a million of Renji’s Squad 11 stories, and the only way anything ever gets solved over there is with punching!”

“The only way anything gets solved over there is with _Yumichika_. I don’t know how he can possibly stand the inane nonsense that goes on, but he knows all and he will solve problems for any hideous meathead that asks him. And _no one_ wants their problems elevated above him, because then the problem _will_ get solved with punching. If Yumichika hadn’t taken Renji on as a personal project, he would probably still…” she trailed off suddenly, “er, still not be a vice-captain. Renji practices a variant of this management style, too, you know?”

“Really?” Rukia echoed, wondering what Rangiku had started to say. 

“Oh, yes. I mean, your brother is an absolute nightmare of a boss. Renji has the whole strict dad, tough love thing going on, but he’s so approachable in comparison that he’s got everyone in that squad under his heel. He’s a teensy bit of a gossip, don’t get me wrong, but mostly he’s just a good listener. And he pays attention. You pay attention, too, I think. I also grew up in a rough part of the Rukon, I know what it takes to survive there.” She put the cap back on her nail polish. “I bet you and Abarai could really run a grift, eh?”

Rukia felt her cheeks color. “We had a few good ones.”

“It’s basically the same skillset,” Rangiku noted. “Watch people. Figure out their patterns. Their motivations. And then figure out how to get them to do what you want. I mean, Renji’s practically stolen the Sixth right out from under your brother. Good thing, too. That place was a dysfunctional snoozeville a year ago.”

“My brother…” Rukia started to say before realizing she didn’t know what she wanted to say.

“Probably hasn’t even noticed,” Rangiku replied flippantly. “Which is the ideal, really, when a vice-captain has everything running so smoothly that their captain doesn’t even notice them. But in their case, it’s literally because your brother doesn’t notice people who are beneath him, which is everyone. Renji told me that himself.”

Rukia squirmed. “I’m not… _sure_ that’s true.”

Rangiku flapped a hand. “I didn’t mean _you_ , sweetie, he’s obviously very fond of you. And really, it’s better this way. Because if your brother ever does notice how deep Renji’s got his mitts in Squad 6, your buddy’s gonna be in a _heap_ of trouble.”

* * *

When Abarai came in from drills, whistling something in no key known to mankind, Byakuya gestured to a pile of folders on the corner of his desk. "I have finished my evaluations," he announced.

This did not seem to deter his Lieutenant in the least. Abarai scooped up the pile on his way by, and in a very precarious-looking maneuver, swapped it with a taller stack on his own desk, which he then deposited back on Byakuya's. "Me, too," he announced.

"Ah. Perfect," Byakuya announced, easing the top folder from the stack and opening it. He skimmed through the checkboxes and the ratings, until he got to the summary at the end. 20th Seat Kuchiki was a second cousin of his, a cheerful woman of roughly his own age, who had chosen a life in the Gotei over a more peaceful and refined existence. He had a vague memory of her receiving a punishment for pushing him into a mud puddle when they were both children.

"Kuchiki Hibiki," the report read, "has a lot of untapped potential!!" Byakuya considered starting a tally on his plotter of uncalled-for exclamation points, then decided better of it. "She has great defensive instincts (she is a really talented futsal goalie!) and can read the development of a fight well. I have encouraged her to branch out from the Kuchiki sword form, which is her primary zanjutsu style, although she is hesitant to do so. Her zanpakutou's earth-based attacks are slow to set up, but very effective defensively, but because she is so tied to the quick-fire rhythm of her sword style, it is difficult to get them off."

It struck Byakuya suddenly, what he had noticed about Abarai training with Gotou the week before. He dug Gotou's file out of the stack and skimmed it. "Gotou is lazy in his form, he does not fully extend his arms which gives up the critical reach advantage that--"

Tossing that one aside, Byakuya dug out the Fifth Seat's folder. "--absolutely essential that he improves his shunpo, his speed is inadequate to force his opponents into--"

Byakuya slammed the folder shut. "I forgot someone," he announced.

Abarai looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You, sir? How did that happen?"

Byakuya stood up. "Come along, Lieutenant. We're going to the dojo."

* * *

Byakuya paced slowly in front of his lieutenant, a practice sword held vertically behind his back. As usual, although he stood at perfect attention, Abarai looked confident and relaxed. The young man worked hard and trained hard. He was proud of his fighting skills and knew well how they stacked up against his squadmates. And since they were indoors, he knew he wasn't going to have to fumble his way through any kidou demonstrations.

"Assume Form 1 Heavenly Sparrow Attack Stance."

Abarai's face blanched. “Sir!" he barked. "As I am sure you are aware, I do not practice the Kuchiki family sword form! I figured you were gonna--"

"Silence, Lieutenant! This is an assessment. I would like to evaluate all of my officers on the same scale, yourself included. Perhaps you know nothing of my family's sword form. It is not required for your duties, and there is certainly sufficient expertise among the top seats." Byakuya glanced at Abarai's face, and almost tripped in his pacing. He had expected to see surprise, perhaps panic. But instead, there was a look of _calculation_ on Abarai's features, a hint of _scheming_. That nagging suspicion was growing. But, surely, it was impossible. Byakuya's grip tightened on his sword hilt. "It has not escaped my attention that you are a very thorough scholar of zanjutsu, Lieutenant, theory as well as practice. I would find it very...surprising if you were to claim complete ignorance of such an old and classical form." 

Abarai's eyes narrowed, ever so slightly.

Byakuya raised his eyebrows. "Also, I have seen you working with the men." Now to twist the knife. "If you hold back, I will know, and I will be very disappointed." _Now_ , panic set in. "The attack stance, if you will?"

Glowering, Renji dropped into position, knees bent, sword held close to his hip. His eyes burned as they tracked Byakuya through his pacing. But with what? Anger? Humiliation?

"Perform attack combination one, please, Lieutenant."

Renji scowled, but executed a slash, followed by a downward block, a low thrust, and then a return to his initial position. Every aspect of the movement was ideal. The man could have been an illustration from a text.

"Again, at speed this time."

Renji grimaced, but repeated the maneuver at a speed that was edging into shunpo. His precision did not waver an atom.

“Attack combination two. I would like them all at speed, if you will.”

Byakuya continued to boredly call out various combinations until, "Form 3, Descending West Wind Block, combination one."

"I don't know that one!" Renji announced, his voice nearly cracking with relief. 

As it happened, there were only two people alive who did, and one of them was too old to perform it anymore.

"It's about time!" Byakuya snapped. "Back to Form 2 Cliff Face Defensive stance!" 

Now, the captain eased himself into Rare Crane Attack stance. "I am going to attack you, Lieutenant, and I wish for you to utilize the canonical defense for each attack. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Renji replied through gritted teeth.

"At first, I will match my speed to yours so that you may demonstrate your knowledge and reflexes. When I am satisfied with your mastery, I will gradually begin to increase the speed of my attack. I will not inform you when this will occur. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

It was honestly a shame he had elected to do this in private, Byakuya decided, as he ran up and down the exercises his grandfather had peppered him with throughout his youth. The men could really benefit from witnessing this.

"Tuck your elbow more!" he found himself shouting. "Smaller steps!"

It wasn’t like fighting Abarai at all. His lieutenant’s face was screwed up in concentration, trying to execute a complicated series of moves perfectly. He had seen the young man this flustered many a time, but never when he had a sword in his hands. Byakuya found some degree of perverse pleasure in this-- this is what fighting is, Lieutenant, hard work and perfection, not gleeful abandon. He took his speed up a notch. 

Byakuya expected Abarai to lose his temper, to start swinging wildly, to curse and stomp away. But instead, he kept up the dance until Renji mistakenly countered a Wild Rabbit Cross with a Northern Star instead of a Southern Star, and his practice sword went clattering across the floor. Panting and red-faced, Abarai rose and bowed respectfully to his superior. Byakuya bowed back.

Abarai straightened up, misery etched on his features.

Byakuya regarded him stonily. He took up his pacing again, and had crossed the room three times, Abarai’s eyes following him suspiciously, before he spoke. “Your knowledge of the form is nearly perfect, as is your positioning and general execution.” He turned and headed back the other way. “Your speed and instinct are miserable.” He paused. “As judged against what I know you are capable of. That being said, compared to your squad mates, you are perhaps the fourth or fifth best, not counting myself.” He turned again. “Which puts you, perhaps, within the top twenty practitioners of the Kuchiki sword form currently alive. Which is very interesting.” Turn. “Given that you are not a Kuchiki and have no formal attachments to my family.”

“I told you sir, I don’t practice. I mean, obviously, I’ve figured out the correct way to do all the moves, but I haven’t been through the intensive training needed to ingrain the moves into my muscle memory. Sir. Because I’m not a Kuchiki. I would never presume to use it in a fight, sir.”

Byakuya cocked his head. “So what you are saying is that you are more competent at my ancestral fighting style than most of my relatives, despite the fact that you don’t even _work_ at it?”

“Oh, that’s not true at all, I worked very hard to learn it! Just...not for the purposes of fighting with it.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “Then why _did_ you learn it? And for that matter, _how?_ I would suspect my sister’s involvement in this, except that I think you are better at it than she.”

“From books, sir, mostly, and watching you.”

Books. _Books!_ Who would look at this dolt, and believe that he had taught himself an entire fighting style from _books?_

“And the why, Lieutenant?”

Abarai scowled. “I could beat around the bush, sir, and tell you about how important it is for a vice-captain to know the style that his officers fight with, but the honest truth is, I plan to beat you one of these days, and you got to know your opponent. Sir.”

Byakuya stopped pacing. 

Imagine. The gall. The absolute _hubris_. A young man, sorted into the worst garbage heap of Soul Society, not content to have clawed his way up to the Seireitei, chooses the greatest son of the most aristocratic house for his personal enemy, and then proceeds to learn his ancient and noble fighting style, not in order to use it, but to counter it. _Imagine_ _it_.

Byakuya had no idea what possessed him to ask the next question. “And what do you think of the Kuchiki sword form, Lieutenant?”

“It’s not for me, sir! It almost is! I got the height and I almost got the speed to pull it off. But it’s all wrong for Zabimaru, they’d probably abandon me if I took it up in earnest.” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad Rukia’s learning it, sir. She hasn’t got the reach, which is a bit of a problem, but Sode no Shirayuki is a formal sword, old-fashioned-like, she’s gonna be real happy with it. Rukia thinks too much when she swordfights, sir, always looking for openings. It's an advantage in a lot of ways, but it loses her the edge she gets from her speed. If she can learn to let go and run on instinct, she's gonna be unstoppable.” He paused. “Goes without sayin’, sir, that it’s a good form for you.”

They were both silent. Renji tried to be subtle as he wiped his sweaty face with the sleeve of his shihakusho. 

“I think your assessment is accurate, unfortunately,” Byakuya sighed. “Or perhaps fortunately. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to take you under my personal tutelage.”

Renji swallowed. “Sir, I ain’t-- I’m not--”

"It would be a tremendous hassle, I would have to find someone in my family line willing to marry you." He waited the appropriate amount of time for peak comedic effect, watching Abarai make the facial expression of a landed fish. "My grandfather is a widower, you know." Disappointingly, Abarai's expression didn't change much, and Byakuya realized he had wasted a very funny joke on a man whose brain had broken several minutes earlier. "Relax, Abarai. I was...kidding. Mostly. Did you think I would be angry that you have taken the time to study something I have devoted most of my life to? From books you likely found at the central library?” He tapped the bokken in his palm. “In the past, use of our form by outsiders was a way of indicating when a family wished to prove its worthiness as a vassal house. My personal house guards use it as well, despite being hirelings.” The sword came to a rest in his palm. “You are loyal to my house, are you not, Lieutenant Abarai?”

Abarai’s mouth hung open for a moment longer before he managed to finally wrestle it shut. “I just admitted I learned your sword form for the purposes of beating you, sir.”

“I don’t see how that is applicable. Answer the question, please, Lieutenant.”

Renji set his jaw. “The Kuchiki main line is just you and Rukia, correct, sir? And your, ah, very eligible granddad?”

Ha! His humor had been appreciated after all. "That is correct."

Renji considered this. “I can say for sure that I would lay down my life for you or Rukia, sir. I’ve never met your grandfather, but if he’s important to you and Rukia, I can throw him in there, too. So, I’m loyal to the main line, I guess.” He nodded, as if he needed to reassure himself. “And of course, I’m loyal to the Sixth, in the sense that I would protect any one of our soldiers and also I’m committed to every one of us being strong and doing what’s right and acting as an example for the whole Gotei.” He smiled hopefully.

Byakuya blinked. 

How many empty pledges of loyalty had he been given in his life, recited from mouths in which butter wouldn’t melt? And then, in his own, imbecilic way, Abarai had just rattled off an utterly sincere and unprompted devotion to the very things Byakuya carried most dear. 

“Sir?”

Byakuya looked up.

“Are you gonna want to do the rest of my evaluation?”

“The rest is unnecessary,” Byakuya informed him. “I have your measure.”

* * *

Zabimaru was snoozing when their shinigami spirit stormed into their world.

He stomped past, shedding articles of clothing. A sock landed on Zabimaru’s head.

“Is everything all right?” they asked around a yawn.

“Everything is _GREAT_!” Renji bellowed back, wading into the river with a series of angry splashes.

Zabimaru worked on one itchy ear while Renji disappeared behind the misty curtain of the waterfall. He would appear again from time to time, gradually making his way higher. He was nearly a quarter of the way up when he lost his grip. One arm pinwheeled frantically and then he plummeted back down into the river below.

Zabimaru put their head down and went back to sleep.

  
  


~ end part 8


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi drops by and pays her respects. Rukia practices her kidou. Renji and Byakuya attend a History Lecture. An interdimensional weak spot threatens to vomit primordial Hellstuff into the Living World and possibly also Soul Society. In other words, a typical weekday.

* * *

* * *

“Are you _sure_ he hasn’t said anything?” Renji pushed.

“I tell you he hasn’t,” Rukia replied. “I don’t even know why you think he would be upset. _He_ thinks his sword form is great. Why wouldn’t everyone want to learn his super great family sword form?”

Renji sighed in exasperation.

“If I tried to learn one of Captain Kurotsuchi’s attacks, he would start slowly poisoning me,” Akon offered, as he led Rukia and Renji through the grounds of the Twelfth Division. They didn't appear to be going to the lab this time. “Do you habitually tox-screen your food and beverages?”

Renji looked stricken.

“Brother doesn’t have the patience for that,” Rukia reassured him. “If he wanted to kill you, he would just stab you.”

“Speaking of your brother’s thin patience, how many times are we gonna have to keep coming over here, Akon? Captain’s starting to get pissy about it."

"It's for science!" Akon replied brightly, as though this were a thing Captain Kuchiki gave half a Hell Butterfly about. "I got this idea at Kuchiki's fight last week, and then we happened to have someone drop by who is a bit of an expert. Oh, here, put these reiatsu monitors on." He turned, and walking backwards, handed each of them an arm band.

"What are we doing?" Rukia frowned, tugging it into place.

"In here," Akon replied in the way of a non-answer, as he held the door open to a building that looked a lot like a training dojo.

"Think fast, chumps!" a familiar voice crowed, and Rukia found herself ducking a foot that came flying at her head.

"Fuuuuck!" was all she could think to yell, desperately trying to block the rapidfire blows coming at her face, backpedaling furiously. "Renji, what are you doing, you loser?!"

"Hold on, I gotta get my shirt off!"

"Fuck your shirt, she's gonna murder me!"

"Ha ha ha!" Yoruichi cackled.

Rukia screwed up her face, and headbutted the former Supreme Commander of the Onmitsukidou.

Yoruichi stumbled back a few steps and wiped a trickle of blood from her nose. She was grinning ferally. "You've gotten fast, Kuchiki," she appraised. “And hardheaded.”

Rukia took a moment to get her bearings and drop into a proper fighting stance. “I’ve always been hardheaded.”

And then Renji, sans kosode and streaming raw kidou, plowed fist-first into Yoruichi with the force of the Dangai Cleaner.

Rukia hauled off her own kosode-- she wondered if she should start habitually wearing the halter-top version-- and jumped in after him.

Rukia and Renji had learned to fight together as children, and although they had recently needed to relearn some of their old rhythms and to account for major speed and strength upgrades, the basic principle was the same. Together, they fought like a dual-wielding samurai. Renji was the katana-- long reach, devastating impact. Rukia was the wakizashi-- close quarters, blazingly fast. Trying to defend against both of them at once was no mean feat.

Shihouin Yoruichi, however, had never performed a mean feat in her entire life. She knocked Rukia back with a powerful donkey kick, and then punched Renji in the stomach and flipped him over her shoulder.

"You rolling, A?" she shouted, jumping over Rukia’s flying fist and landing on the smaller woman's shoulders, wobbling a little as Rukia spun around fruitlessly. 

"Readings are good, keep going as long as you like!"

Yoruichi used her newfound height advantage to kick Renji in the face as he tried to tackle her.

Rukia took a deep breath, and sent a huge kidou flare out her back.

Yoruichi nimbly leapt out of the way, but Renji was prepared, and grabbed her from behind, trying to lock her into a half-Nelson. Unfortunately for him, she flipped over his shoulders, yanking his own arms painfully upward.

“ _Sokatsui!”_

Renji hit the deck, Rukia’s kidou sailing past his head. “Watch it!” he yelped.

“Aw, you’ve taken worse!” Rukia crowed. “ _Sokatsui!”_

Yoruichi stomped on Renji’s back for good measure, and rushed Rukia. Rukia dodged, but Yoruichi snatched the back of her sash, swung her around, and threw her at Renji, who had just clambered to his feet and was charging toward her. Then, she pointed a finger, and yellow energy began to gather around it, like lightning gathering on a ship's mast. Just as Rukia crashed into Renji's chest, the six rods of _Rikujoukourou_ thunked home, pinned them together helplessly in midair.

" _Nice_ job, kids," Yoruichi told her scowling opponents. "Looks like someone taught you dweebs some shunkou."

"Nah, we invented that ourselves," Renji grunted, straining against the bind.

Yoruichi gave a barking laugh. "I can't believe you kids remembered it on your own. I'm delighted, of course. Or did the whole mindwipe wear off completely?"

"Nah, we're still amnesiacs," Renji went on. He could tell that Rukia was concentrating on something, and it was his job to be the loudmouth.

"Akon, what's it look like?” Yoruichi turned. “You get anything interesting?”

"You could have drawn it out a little longer,” Akon griped. “But yeah, I got it. I don't believe it, honestly. I mean, I theorized it, I obviously wouldn't have done the test if I really didn't believe it was possible, but it is still _surprising_ \--against an actual opponent, automatic frequency alignment, no instabilities--"

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. These two bozos have hung out with Kurosaki long enough that they’ve picked up his stupid ability to get better in the middle of getting his ass handed to him. It’s more surprising, I’d say, that they were able to retain their ability to do shunkou, which is a high specialized--

"Renji," Rukia said under her breath. "I need to borrow some reiatsu."

"I don't know what that means," he muttered back, "but do what you gotta."

Renji was already acutely aware that Rukia's back, which was naked aside from her chest wrap, was pressed up against his chest, which was also naked. Now, a strange _pulling_ sensation drew even more attention to this fact. Usually reiatsu flowed from the heart to the back, through the saketsu, and then out to the arms and legs, but in this case, it was going _the wrong way_ \--from his heart to _Rukia's_ back _._ "Should I be doing something?" he hissed.

"You should be _getting ready_ ," Rukia replied.

Akon's eyes were darting back and forth between Yoruichi, his reader, and Rukia and Renji. Yoruichi was blathering about her own shunkou and something about Soi Fon. “Hey… hey, Shihouin…”

Suddenly, the _Rikujoukourou_ exploded in an expanding torus of energy that knocked Akon on his ass. Yoruichi managed to keep her feet, and spun just in time to widen her eyes as Renji hurled Rukia straight at her.

The women hit the ground, rolling and grappling and yelling, throwing off a maelstrom of reiatsu. Finally, with a mighty heave, Yoruichi managed to kick Rukia off of her--only to have 172 pounds of tattooed vice-captain and all of his reiatsu land on top of her, smashing her into the ground, only to be followed a few moments later by an additional 73 pounds worth of future vice-captain.

"Fuuuuck you goons," Yoruichi groaned.

"Good job, babe," Rukia announced from her perch on Renji's back.

"Couldn't've done it without you," Renji replied, holding up one hand in the general vicinity of where he thought Rukia was. She high-fived him.

"I yield, I yield, lemme up!" Yoruichi groaned. 

Rukia bounced off of Renji's back and went to retrieve her shirt. Renji rolled off, hopped to his feet, and offered Yoruichi a hand up.

"Did you two get ba-- hook up?" Yoruichi asked, cracking her neck.

"No," Renji replied, his voice coming out a bit high. "Why would you say that?"

"If you're together romantically, you should have told me, that puts everything in a different context," Akon complained, mostly engrossed in his reader.

"We're not!" Renji excused.

"She called you 'babe,'" Yoruichi pointed out.

"No, I didn't," Rukia replied, tucking her kosode into her hakama.

"I'm pretty sure you did," Yoruichi replied.

"Nah, I woulda noticed that," Renji sided with Rukia.

"Akon, back me up!"

"I wasn't paying attention. If Abarai says they aren't together, they aren't together, I would think he would know. What I want to know is how you two managed to go from a 33 (which is _stupidly_ high to start with) to a 74% reiatsu synchronization rate _instantly_ , which was apparently good enough for Kuchiki to convert Abarai's reiryouku into her own reiatsu. You saw that, right, Shihouin?"

"I wasn't paying attention," Yoruichi shot back in a snotty voice, before turning her gaze back to Rukia. "But you busted through my bakudou. That wasn't nothing."

"Saw Ichigo do it once," Rukia shrugged. 

"Kurosaki can shrug off a bakudou in the 60s?" Yoruichi asked skeptically, eyebrows lofted.

"I mean, no, it was Bakudou #1, but the principle was the same. Didn't have enough power to do it on my own. Borrowed some of Renji's."

"But how did you _do_ that?" Akon insisted.

"Exactly the way you would expect," Rukia shrugged, picking up Renji's shirt and throwing it at him.

Renji caught it and shrugged. "I didn't do anything. I was just there."

"Does this change what you told us earlier?" Rukia asked Akon. "About being dirtbag soulbound?"

"Being _what_?" Yoruichi hooted.

"I don't know what it means!" Akon threw up his hands. " I just wanted to know, if you were really challenged, the both of you together, would you synch up for real? Yoruichi happened to come by and she asked me how you were and it seemed like a fun thing to try!"

"Oh, it was fun," Renji readily agreed.

"Yeah, no one's arguing that," Yoruichi added. "What's this about being dirtbag soulbound? That sounds great. How do I get dirtbag soulbound to someone?"

"Renji and I are kinda sorta synched up, the way old friends get, but Akon says it happened too fast and we got too close, so we get instabilities and reiatsu backlashes," Rukia summed up. "It looks kinda like being soulbound, but it's really just being dirtbags."

"I _thought_ ," Akon bit off, "that it was a natural overshoot in the process of self-correction. But the fact that they're able to achieve much higher synchronization rates under duress, I don't know--"

"It sounds like your zanpakutou don't like each other," Yoruichi interrupted.

Everyone stared at her.

Yoruichi thought for a moment. "Or, if I had to guess, based on what you just did, _one_ of you," her eyes settled on Renji, "has a big goon of a zanpakutou who loves winning, no matter what the cost, no matter how trivial the contest. And the other one," her eyes drifted over to Rukia, "has a real bitch of a zanpakutou who hates working with others."

"What makes you say that?" Rukia asked icily.

Yoruichi shrugged cheerfully. “Kisuke was real interested in soulbonds for a while. Unfortunately for him, he’s got the bitchiest zanpakutou in the history of Soul Society."

“Oh,” said Rukia slowly. “Is there any way to get them to get along better?”

“Well, they get along in a fight, so at least there’s that,” Yoruichi shrugged. “Benihime used to hang his ass out to dry on the reg. Aside from that… I dunno. Do I look like some kinda zanpakutou therapist?” 

"Don't look at me," Akon added, typing something into his machine at high speed. "I do not know _shit_ about relationships, I am just the data guy."

"Y'know, Zabimaru is a pain in the fucking ass to get along with," Renji suddenly broke in. "I had to get all these fucking tattoos and had nightmares for years and I still want to punch them in the faces most of the time. I'm sure this is _at least_ half their fault. But I got it figured out eventually, and so will we, even if it means I gotta start gettin' snowflake tattoos, or whatever it is Sode no Shirayuki's into." 

Rukia managed a small smile back at his confident grin. It wasn't just bluster, he really believed it, that he could charm her zanpakutou, the way he charmed everyone. Maybe he could, Rukia thought fondly. He seemed to be making progress on Byakuya, and what was a fairytale ice queen compared to her brother?

Yoruichi's eyes were darting back between the two of them. She looked like she wanted to say something, and she finally came out with, "Are we done? I'm gonna go bother Abarai's captain."

Renji sighed heavily. "Y'aren't actually. Y'know we got your picture taped under the counter at the Sixth Division gatehouse."

"You gonna stop me?" Yoruichi jeered. 

"I'm obligated to try," Renji sighed resignedly, starting to pull his shirt off again.

"I am absolutely not getting into this," Rukia interrupted, "but you owe us some shunkou lessons."

"Oh, do I?" Yoruichi frowned. "I thought maybe you forgot about that."

"No, that was after the memory wipe," Renji reminded her.

“It seems like you already know how to do shunkou, I don’t see what you need me for,” Yoruichi sniffed.

“Renji’s not as good at it as me, get him up to speed,” Rukia demanded. “You can help me with my shunpo instead, if you want. I need advanced tips.”

Yoruichi cocked an eyebrow. “Your Kuchiki is showing.”

Rukia smirked. “Good.”

Yoruichi shrugged. “Welp, I’m here. You wanna do this now?”

“I actually have a kidou lesson to get to,” Rukia excused. “You’ll still be around this afternoon?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, here at your disposal, mmm,” Yoruichi rolled her eyes. She flopped her head over to look at Renji. “What about you, slacker boy? Got some time?”

In response, Renji blew a kidou flare out his shoulders and smiled hopefully.

“Have fun!” Rukia called, waving as she left. 

Yoruichi shook her head, and turned to her eager student. “How do you spend all your time with not one, but _two_ of them?”

“Glutton for punishment, I guess,” Renji shrugged.

“All right, then,” Yoruichi agreed, as her own shunkou crackled to life around her. 

* * *

“It’s not that I don’t think you can cast both of them at once! It’s just that the chants are too similar, you’re going to get tongue-tied.”

“I will be the judge of that, Ise. Ahem. _The iron wall of the ocean/Ocean waves arise at the wrong dawn/Go forth at dawn/Dawn don’t drawn dawn_ dammit, ha ha ha!”

“Watch out! _Enkousen!”_

Rukia lingered behind the safety line, watching as Lieutenants Ise and Hinamori appeared to be dicking around at the kidou butts. She was almost certain this was the time she was supposed to meet with them, nevertheless, she was struck with a sudden pang of fear that she should have double checked her schedule. The Squad 12 thing had come up at the last minute and thrown her morning into disarray.

“Oh, Kuchiki’s here! Hi, Kuchiki!” Momo waved.

Ah, it was the correct time, after all. 

“Good afternoon, Lieutenants,” Rukia bowed deeply. “Thank you for making time for me!”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all!” Nanao flapped her hand. “Momo and I get together every week for kidou practice, anyway. Abarai said you were a fair hand at kidou yourself, maybe you’ll end up joining us sometimes.”

“What were you doing?” Rukia asked, feeling a little shy. Which was stupid, of course! She’d just told off the former Shihouin princess, why did she feel so nervous around a couple of lieutenants?

“Oh, sometimes we just like to mess around,” Momo explained. “Play with which spells work in combination, which ones don’t. It’s nice to have a second person to deflect your mistakes. But what was it Renji said we were supposed to work on?”

“Fundamentals,” Nanao supplied.

“Fundamentals!” Momo boomed in a very good Renji voice. “Never skip _Shakkahou_ day!”

Rukia felt her ears burning a little. She remembered the first time Renji had introduced her to Momo, back at the Academy. Momo had struck her as impossibly nice and polite and smart and pretty, the sort of person who wouldn’t last 5 seconds in Inuzuri. Except that they weren’t in Inuzuri anymore, there were in the Seireitei, where people liked girls who were nice and polite and smart and pretty, not so much girls who knew a lot of cuss words and how to catch snakes without getting bit. She remembered the cold wash of fear that _Renji_ liked girls who were nice and polite and smart and pretty.

Rukia stood up a little straighter and set her jaw. She was a Kuchiki. She knew how to be polite, and anyone could be pretty with enough make-up and the right hairdo, and she was smart in her own way. Nice people didn’t make fun of their friends for being gym rats, so maybe neither of them got a point for that. And Rukia still wasn’t positive what Renji’s opinion was on all these things, but it didn’t matter, because she knew for a fact that he liked _her_. It was just fine if he liked other people, too.

“The Lieutenant’s Exam kidou demonstration doesn’t care if you know anything about chaining spells or other fancy stuff,” Momo was explaining.

“Some of that is in the theory section,” Nanao interrupted.

“Right, the written part,” Momo went on. “And showing off is encouraged in the all-around combat demo. The kidou demo is all fundamentals, though. You start at the beginning, and you have to cast each kidou in turn, first with full chant, and then as an eishouhaki, if you can. After the first twenty, the eishouhaki is optional, but the first spell you miss completely, you’re done.”

“And you want to cast each spell as best as you can,” Nanao added. “It really is a test of how thoroughly you know every one and how much power you can pour into it.”

“Sounds fun,” Rukia declared.

Momo and Nanao looked at each other.

“It is kinda fun, yeah,” Momo agreed.

“It’s a very polarizing test,” Nanao admitted. “Either you’re going up into the 70s, or you goof one in the low twenties. Or you’re Omaeda, and you forget the chant to Hadou #3. _Classic_.”

“Do you do alternate between hadou and bakudou?” Rukia asked.

“No, you do all the bakudou and then all the hadou,” Nanao explained. “And then, if you choose to, you can do kaidou.”

“All in a row,” Rukia breathed. “That’s a lot.”

Momo nodded eagerly.

Rukia nodded slowly. “Brother gave me some tips once, for kidou endurance.”

“Nice,” Nanao nodded. “Er, I mean, because your brother is well-known as an exceptional kidou practitioner. That was not a… never mind.”

Momo snorted through her nose.

“Well, you want to just go for it?” Nanao suggested. “I think trying it ahead of time is really important, to gauge your energy. Or, if there are specific kidou you’d like help with, we can do that instead. Momo and I are here to help.”

Momo nodded curtly. 

“Well, I think I’d like to just jump in. See how high I can go,” Rukia announced. Momo took a few steps back so Rukia could step past the safety line. “Er, how high did each of you get?”

“Well, I can do all 99 of each of them,” Nanao replied dismissively. “Although I need the chants above 75.”

Yikes, Rukia’s brain assessed.

“She’s a show-off,” Momo teased, winking at Nanao. “I made it to 78 and 82, respectively.” 

“Eh, so easy,” Rukia dismissed.

“Abarai almost made it through the teens,” Nanao offered hopefully. “I thought for sure he would fail out on one of the no-chants.”

“He never uses the chants,” Momo and Rukia replied in unison, and then looked at each other.

“Hey, you want me to do them with you?” Momo offered suddenly. “You, me, you, me? See who gets higher?” 

Rukia rather liked the competitive glint in the other woman’s eye. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I’ll buy you lunch if you beat me.”

“Same,” Rukia stood up a little straighter.

“No, if I win, I want you to tell me how bad Renji boned it at your dinner the other day.”

Rukia blinked. “Oh, I would do that for free.” She cocked her head. “He told you about that?”

“Yeah, he got crazy nervous beforehand and Izuru and Shuuhei and I had to talk him down.”

Some small part of Rukia’s heart turned to mush. That sweet, stupid, perfect goofball. _Oh, fuck_ , she thought to herself, I have it _bad_.

“Hey!” Nanao interrupted, shaking Rukia from her daydreams.

Momo wagged a hand. “Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud, we’re just livening things up a bit!”

“I’m not a stick-in-the-mud, I wanted in!”

* * *

  
  


“Where have you been?” Byakuya asked, not looking up from his paperwork as Renji walked into the office. “And what happened to your hair?”

“Twelfth again,” Abarai excused, patting at his ponytail experimentally. “I got a little bit electrocuted.”

“You should stop going over there,” Byakuya advised.

“You’re probably right,” Renji agreed, making his way over to his desk.

"What are your lunch plans for today?"

Renji froze before sitting down. "Uhh… just the mess, as usual, sir."

Byakuya paused. This was surely a mistake. "I have a lunchtime engagement today," he stated.

"Yes, sir, Seireitei Historical Society Lecture Series."

"It is a monthly event for major donors," Byakuya explained. "There is usually an interesting speaker and dry chicken. They send me two tickets. Lieutenant Shirogane used to accompany me." He paused again. Abarai was still staring at him, frozen with one hand on his chair. "It is unrelated to Gotei business, but if you are interested, you may take his place. It would be beneficial, I would think."

Abarai swallowed. "Uh. Okay."

“You don’t, perchance, own a dress uniform, do you, Lieutenant?”

“A what, sir?”

“A shihakusho of silk, Abarai, with a short haori? The other seated officers wear them for special occasions.”

“Oh! I thought those were associated with Kuchiki stuff. No, sir, I haven’t got one.”

Byakuya nodded. “I assumed as much. Do you have a clean shihakusho, at least? One that you’ve never bled on? Or whatever you’ve done to the one you’re wearing that has resulted in a slight burning odor?”

Renji nodded. “Yes, sir! I have one I keep special. I used to have two, but I, uh… there was an incident.”

"Perhaps you could go put it on. And see if there’s something you can do about that hair, as well."

* * *

Rukia sighed contentedly as the sip of hot tea ran down her aching throat. She was going to have to remember to bring a water bottle to the actual exam. 

“Ahh,” Momo sighed next to her.

“You overdid it, too?” Rukia croaked.

“I would ne-- I would never,” Momo wheezed.

Nanao rolled her eyes. “You both shout too much. Shouting does not increase your spell power.”

“Hinamori, can I ask you something?” Rukia asked, keeping her voice low so that it wouldn’t hurt so much. “It’s not about kidou.”

“Sure,” Momo replied, equally softly.

“There’s a woman who recently transferred from your Squad to mine--Ooshima?”

Hinamori made an exhausted-looking face. “Y-eah. What about her?”

“Who pissed in her miso?”

Momo laughed wryly, then regretted it, rubbing her throat. “I’m so sorry. I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s not her fault, not really. Aizen was a real shit, y’know?”

Nanao made an amused noise with accompanying eyeroll.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with him,” Rukia agreed.

“I mean… you and me got our lives ruined by the guy, at least that’s pretty straightforward. You have to understand that most of my squad… they loved him. I loved him right up to the moment he stabbed me. He was so kind, so nice. Everyone thought they knew him, everyone thought he cared about them. And they didn’t get to see his betrayal first-hand. We had to move a lot of people, not because they’ve done anything wrong or because they’re bad, but because we need a fresh start in the Fifth, a new culture. We tried to be really up front about that. I imagine Ooshima dislikes you in particular because, well, from a lot of peoples’ perspectives, Aizen’s defection was ‘your fault.’ I’m sorry about that. It sucks for you.”

“You should talk to your captain,” Nanao suggested. “Captain Ukitake is wonderful with people when they ask for help, but sometimes he’s too eager to see the best in people, and isn’t proactive about taking care of bad apples.”

“If I’m going to be the Vice-Captain, I need to be able to handle these sorts of things on my own,” Rukia frowned. 

“Nooooo, no, no,” Nanao and Momo disagreed.

“You and your captain need to be a team!” Momo announced.

“And even if you _can_ handle things, you need to communicate with your captain, keep him in the loop.”

“Oh,” Rukia frowned. “I don’t think that Brother and Renji--”

“Do _not_ use them as a model,” Momo warned. “They are so, _so_ weird.”

“Agreed,” Nanao nodded, before tilting her head to the side. “They’re extremely efficient, though. I was helping Lieutenant Sasakibe run the metrics the other day, and the Sixth is making the rest of us look bad. _Real_ bad.”

“Hey, as long as we’re trading tips,” Momo asked, “and talking about Renji, I have a Renji question for you.”

“You want to hear about how he dragged his sleeve though his soup at my house the other day?”

“I very much do, but I also want to know how you keep him from being super over-protective.”

Rukia’s brow creased, trying to ignore the pang of sudden irrational jealousy in her chest. “Is he overprotective of you?” 

“Are you kidding? Renji? He attacks me himself when he thinks I’ve been getting lazy. I assumed you were the one who pummeled it out of him. No, my problem is Toushirou. He’s driving me nuts.”

"Just ignore him, men are useless," Nanao opined.

Momo made an irritated noise in her throat. "He's like my brother, I can't get rid of him that easily. Any ideas, Kuchiki?"

“Oh.” Rukia thought for a moment. “Sorry, it wasn’t my doing. Renji’s always been that way. I don’t think he’d have ever let me be friends with him if he didn’t think I could take care of myself.”

“‘Let you be friends with him’?” Momo echoed incredulously.

“Yeah, he didn’t like me very much when we first met.”

“ _Really_?” Momo looked utterly poleaxed by this piece of information.

Nanao perked up as well. She didn’t know Rukia and Renji the way Momo did, but she had excellent radar for juicy details.

“You remember what a huge grump he was back when we were all in school? He was a hundred times worse back in Rukongai. ‘Ain’t got no use for a girl in the gang. Mark my words, she’ll be nothing but trouble,’” she grumbled in a passable imitation of a prepubescent Renji. She took another sip of tea. “He got over it.”

"I don't believe it," Momo shook her head.

"But getting back to Captain Hitsugaya," Rukia went on, "just tell him how it is. Kick his ass if you need to." It occurred to Rukia that this strategy had not exactly worked well on her own sibling.

Momo scowled. "Unfortunately, he is slightly stronger than me."

Rukia nodded. "Kick someone else's ass then, someone tough. I bet Madarame would be game."

"Mmmmm… no," Momo nodded exaggeratedly. "Not a bad idea in principle, though. Nanao, you want to throw down in public?"

"We could stage a really hot disagreement at Book Club," Nanao suggested brightly.

"Maybe someone a teensy bit tougher than that," Rukia suggested.

* * *

"...was really a secret organization that engineered the Blue Stream Gate Uprising in order to divert attention from their attempts to create a secret gate to the Royal Realm."

"That is certainly one interpretation," Byakuya replied mildly. Once people started explaining their favorite conspiracy theories to him, it was usually time to start thinking about departure.

Unfortunately, he had somehow found himself in the middle of a pack of scholars, all of whom had so many interesting research ideas and so very, very little funding.

“Lord Kuchiki, ah, how did you enjoy the lecture?” 

Byakuya turned and found himself confronted with the speaker himself, a professor at the Royal Academy of Arts and Spiritual Sciences. He could hardly slip out now. Perhaps a quick compliment and then--

“Oh, yes, very interesting. I look forward to your upcoming publication.”

“I did appreciate access to the Kuchiki family collections,” the man replied, stroking his mustache. “And I wanted to discuss the possibility of extending your generous invitation to a few students of mine.”

Byakuya frowned at the idea of… youngsters… tramping through the family archives. Nevertheless, this is part of what it meant to be a custodian of knowledge. “I am sure a few of your trusted postgraduate--”

“Yes, I am teaching a survey course for freshmen next semester, and a tour through the fantastic Kuchiki archives would be just the thing to inspire some of them to go into the discipline!”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. Suddenly, a firm hand fell on his shoulder. Ah, it was his erstwhile adjutant, whom he had last left eating Byakuya's own unwanted dessert. He leaned his head back. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

Abarai spoke softly in his ear. "I'm makin' a real serious face and whispering at you 'cause it looks like you wanna get out of here, but if you don't, just tell me to buzz off."

Byakuya cleared his throat. "It appears I am needed back at the division, an excellent lecture, as always. Please contact my Chief Archivist if you need anything from me. I will see you all next month."

He regarded Abarai as they stepped out into the fresh air. "I am quite skilled at extricating myself from social situations, you know," he informed his vice-captain.

"Sorry, sir."

"That is not to say I was not grateful. Now, Lieutenant, did you happen to learn anything?"

"I did, sir! Very unsecure location for one, found at least three possible entry points for malfeasers."

"That is not a word, Abarai."

"There was a skinny guy that I thought might be trying to kill you, but it was just the AV guy, and it turned out we were just sitting next to the place where all the stuff was plugged in."

"I recall, we had to move briefly."

"The guy with the real big sideburns--"

"That is the editor of the Journal of Seireitei Architecture: Past and Present."

"--is having an affair with the lady with that real clunky necklace."

"She is the Director of the Museum of Early Soul Society Art and Culture. My goodness, _really_?"

"Oh, yeah, back of the cloak room, really going at it. Lessee-- the Shihouin kid-- he's gotta be related to Yoruichi, right, looks just like her?"

"Her brother."

"I think he was supposed to be taking notes, but it looked like he was drawing pictures of himself as a shinigami."

"Abarai?"

"Yes, sir?"

"When I asked if you had learned anything, I was referring to _the lecture_. Did you pay any attention whatsoever to _that_?"

"Oh, sure, sir, I kept half an ear open. I liked when he showed the pictures of all the famous guys’ battle armor, that was pretty cool, made you feel like you really knew ‘em, huh?”

“My family stewards many of those particular suits in our family armory,” Byakuya supplied offhandedly.

“Wow! Have you seen ‘em?” Abarai asked excitedly.

“I have.”

“Cool.” Abarai shook his head. “I gotta admit, though, I got lost in some of the other stuff. There was something about a price-fixing scheme on fabric?”

Byakuya’s brows furrowed. “You know nothing of the East River Silk Scandal? It was the precipitating economic catalyst for the fall of the Wakisaka and Okano families and minor depression of the late 1200s?”

Abarai looked utterly blank.

“Which led to Inner Rukongai unrest, culminating in the Blue Stream Gate Uprising?”

“I know about that!” Abarai brightened. “That’s what city people call the Massacre at the Blue Stream Gate.”

Byakuya frowned at his lieutenant. “Why do you think I asked you to accompany me today, Lieutenant?”

“Uh, to watch your back, maybe? It’s always easier to look intimidating with a tall, angry guy following you around.”

“It was an event at a library! I did not need to intimidate anyone! I had hoped to have an interesting conversation about the lecture after the fact, and I thought you harbored at least some interest in the history of Soul Society.”

“I… do,” Abarai said hesitantly. “I’m a little surprised you noticed.”

“You run a weekly drill where you make the men reenact famous historic battles,” Byakuya pointed out.

“Well, I have a good book on those,” Abarai explained. “It has a lot of diagrams.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You gotta understand, sir, that what we got for history class out in Inuzuri is drinking songs. I liked history class at Shin’ou, but I didn’t do great, since I started out pretty far behind. They focused pretty heavily on shinigami history in any case, battles and major magical events, not so much culture and economics. Anything else I know is just something I happened to read a book about, or that Kira gave me some lecture on while he was drunk. Kira tends to wax academic when he gets toasted.” Abarai looked sheepish. “Sorry, sir. Maybe you’d be better off takin’ Ohno to these things instead.”

“Ha!” Byakuya barked. “You won’t get off that easily. What was it you said? ‘Just because a man is bad at something is no reason to let him out of it’? I will simply give you some preparatory material beforehand next month.” He glanced at his lieutenant out of the corner of his eye, expecting heavy sighs or a crestfallen facial expression, but Abarai actually looked… pleased?

“That’d be great, sir. Thanks.”

“It is my family’s bound duty to preserve and promote the history of Soul Society,” Byakuya sniffed. “In exchange, I should also like to hear some of your ‘drinking songs.’ There is very little collected on the oral traditions of the Outer Rukon, you know.”

Abarai opened his mouth and then closed it again. “You got perfect pitch, right, sir?”

Byakuya blinked. How had Abarai known that? “Yes, of course. All Kuchiki do.”

“I been told my singing should be classified as a form of unarmed combat. Y’might be better off getting Rukia to sing them for you, then.” He frowned. “Never mind. Most of them are pretty bawdy. I’ll write ‘em down for you.”

"Perhaps that would be best," Byakuya agreed.

* * *

When Byakuya stepped into his office after dinner, someone was sitting behind his desk.

“Get out of my house,” he sneered.

“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Shihouin Yoruichi replied, delicately pushing his calligraphy set out of the way with one foot, so she could prop both feet up on his desk. “I was going to visit you at your office, but your lieutenant said he would fight me if I set foot in your division.”

Byakuya frowned. “Surely he shouldn’t have been much of an impediment. Or have you gone even softer and lazier than usual?”

“I could have kicked his ass six ways to Sunday after your sister left, sure, but he would keep fighting me until I broke his legs or something, and he’s such a sweet puppy. I figured I’d just catch up with you later. And here I am!”

"I thought you hated him. He said you tormented him constantly when he was in the World of the Living."

Shihouin looked confused for a moment. "Oh, right, when he was staying at Kisuke's." She chuckled to herself. "Yeah, we had a bit of fun with him. He's such an easy mark, I'm sure you like jerking him around a bit yourself. Abarai's kinda grown on me, though. He's a pretty good cook, did you know that? And _wowzers_ can he make a cup of tea!"

“Is there an actual reason you are here, or merely to make my life worse?” Byakuya demanded irritably.

“Oh, Kisuke found a dimensional soft spot and sent me to go talk to Mayuri about it. Maybe if you’re extra lucky, you’ll get put on the road work crew that gets to repair it. I forget sometimes, how fun and exciting the Gotei Captain lifestyle is!”

Byakuya wrinkled his nose despite himself. Interdimensional repairs were so tedious. Maybe the Head-Captain could send the Vizard captains to do it. “What does this have to do with me?”

“As long as I’m in Soul Society, I like to make the rounds. Saw Little Bro yesterday. He’s up to his ears in marriage proposals, all insulting. Was wondering if you were back on the market yet.”

Byakuya gave her his absolute most withering look.

Yoruichi threw back her head and laughed. “Still married to that stick up your butt, I see! It’s a buyer’s market, I hear. You’re gonna have to do it one of these days, y’know, unless you plan on marrying off your sister instead.” There was something sharp and sly in that.

“Are you trying to make an offer on my sister’s hand?” Byakuya made a disgusted face.

“Can you _imagine_ how cute she and Yuushirou would be together, all small and trying so hard to look tough?”

Byakuya shot her the withering look again.

“I was just kidding, y’know. Your sister would eat my brother alive. How’s she doing?”

“My sister? She is well. Did you not say you saw her earlier?”

Yoruichi’s face grew more serious. “Yeah. I did. Seems like she’s in good shape, physically.”

“She is in intense training right now,” Byakuya said dryly.

Yoruichi’s eyebrows arched up. “For…bankai?”

“For the lieutenant’s examination.”

Yoruichi's face lit up. “Oh, good for her!”

Byakuya made a growling noise in his throat.

“You haven’t noticed anything… off about her?”

“What are you insinuating, Shihouin?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Kuchiki. Your baby sis lost three months of memories and I feel a little responsible and I wanted to make sure she was bouncing back okay. You’re probably the person closest to her, aside from Abarai, but unfortunately, he's just as suspect as she is. For that matter, how’s he doing?”

“He is as blundering and oafish as ever. Rukia as sharp and brilliant.”

Yoruichi’s eyes searched over him for a moment, and Byakuya felt strangely exposed. “Good,” she finally assessed. She kicked her feet in the air and hopped up so she was standing on his desk. “That was what I came by for.”

“Really?”

Yoruichi shrugged. “Yeah. Those two goons mostly take care of each other, but it’s good that you’re here to keep an eye on them.” Again, there was a strange, slightly accusatory undercurrent to her statement, as if he did _not_ watch over them enough, as though he had missed something he should have seen. “Catch ya on the flip side, Byakuya-bou!” Then with a whoosh of shunpo, she was gone again.

Sighing, Byakuya sat down at his desk. His cushion was unpleasantly _warm_. He noticed a small object on his desk. A hair tie. Idly, he picked it up, and pulled his hair up into a high ponytail. He hadn’t worn it that way in decades. He shook his head a little, and let it swish against his neck. Then, remembering suddenly who he was, he pulled it out and stuffed it in a desk drawer before getting to work.  
  


* * *

“...how could a _road crew mission_ possibly require _four_ captains?” Byakuya asked, tiredly.

The Head Captain regarded him from under one droopy eyebrow. “You will need your vice-captains as well.”

Byakuya was gathered in the Head Captain’s office along with Captains Ukitake, Kyouraku, and Hitsugaya, being briefed on that damned dimensional weak spot.

Kyouraku wagged a finger. “Isn’t that what Shihouin always used to call these things? Road crew missions?”

“I think you’re right,” Ukitake agreed cheerily.

Byakuya felt a headache coming on.

“It does seem like an awful lot of firepower,” Hitsugaya grumbled, looked at Byakuya out of the corner of his eye. At least someone here had an ounce of sense.

“It’s not about firepower,” the captain-commander grumbled, rolling a large diagram out on his desk. “What we have here is a Hell-bubble. A high pressure region that is pushing into Soul Society on one side and the Living World on the other. The Spirit Dimensional Sequestration Barrier needs to be reinforced on both sides simultaneously, or we risk a rupture.”

“Oh, we had one of those back in ‘66,” Kyouraku nodded. “That was bad.”

Byakuya wondered which ‘66 Kyouraku was referring to. It certainly wasn’t either of the two that he remembered.

“So bad,” Ukitake nodded. “Hell-bubbles are full of these little… proto-fire demons. They are immune to kidou, you can’t hold them back with a barrier or _anything_. They’re a huge pain. We were finding them for _months_.”

The captain commander nodded. “They _are_ vulnerable to zanpakutou. So, the plan is to have Captains Kyouraku and Ukitake reinforce the barrier from the Soul Society and Living World sides, respectively. Captains Kuchiki and Hitsugaya, I’ve chosen you because both you and your lieutenants are effective over large areas. I need you to catch any little hell monsters that get loose.”

“We are to act as a… fence,” Byakuya echoed.

“Your lieutenants can help,” Yamamoto reassured him.

Byakuya glanced over at Hitsugaya. The young captain looked about as disgusted with this as he himself was. 

“Even though it’s not official yet, I’m going to bring Kuchiki,” Ukitake announced. “This should be a good experience for her. She’s, ah, better at kidou than either of my third seats, also.”

“A fine idea!” the Captain-Commander rumbled.

Byakuya disliked this, although he did not let it show on his face. Perhaps a tedious mission would be just the thing to show Rukia what vice-captaining was really all about. 

* * *

As they stepped through the senkaimon, Rukia and Renji took a deep breath through their noses, almost in unison.

Byakuya sniffed and frowned. Like most Soul Reapers, he hated the air in the Living World-- moldy, dank, full of things living and growing and dying. “I thought you found the air here to be unpleasant,” he commented to his lieutenant.

Renji frowned thoughtfully. “I used to, for sure. Grows on you, I guess. Kinda nostalgic.”

“Mmm, nostalgic,” Rukia agreed, turning to share a look with Renji.

It was particularly bad because they were out in a wooded area, on the edge of the _juureichi_ centered on Karakura Town. The large discontinuity in spiritual energy tended to put wear and tear on dimensional boundaries, which is probably why the breach had occurred in this spot.

“What do the readings look like, Kuchiki?” Captain Ukitake asked.

Rukia had been entrusted with a Squad 12 device for locating the breech. “It’s nearby,” she declared. “Within a spirit mile.”

Ukitake nodded. “It’s the way of the Living World to manifest these things in someplace with an appropriate atmosphere. Be on the lookout for an old rotted tree, or maybe an abandoned dwelling.”

“I think it’s more like creepy things in the Living World tend to follow the underlying spiritual structure,” Rukia theorized. “A house built on a spiritual weak spot tends to fall into disrepair. Humans don’t like living in those places. Plants don’t thrive there. ”

“Interesting theory, Kuchiki!” Ukitake agreed.

Byakuya’s nostrils twitched. Missions were not appropriate venues for academic theorizing. It put one off their guard. He glanced over to his own lieutenant, who was surveying the woods with narrowed eyes, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. Byakuya wasn’t sure if it was the young man’s rough upbringing, or his long experience in Squad 11, but Abarai tended to keep his awareness on a hair-trigger during these sorts of things. It was a habit Byakuya approved of.

“How ‘bout a spooky cave?” Abarai suggested. 

“Oh, yes, a spooky cave would be perfect!” Ukitake exclaimed.

Abarai pointed down an escarpment scattered with large rocks. It was somewhat difficult to see down through the trees, but once it was pointed out, sure enough, there was a shadowed opening among the rocks. Unwanted, Zaraki’s unpoetic, but accurate assessment of Abarai popped into Byakuya’s head: Red hair. Knows where stuff is.

Rukia scampered ahead, slipping a little on the layer of damp pine needles coating the forest floor. “The spiritual distortion is stronger down here!” she called. “I bet this is it!”

“Rukia, please wait for Abarai or myself,” Byakuya scolded her. Ukitake had been permitted to make this trip without a power suppressor, as he would need the full force of his powers to bind the breech. Therefore, it had been decided that if they were attacked, the Squad 6 contingent should engage first, in the interest of not putting undue stress on this already fragile portion of the Living World. Whether or not Rukia _should_ have been given a power suppressor was debatable, but Ukitake had asked that she not be given one, in case she needed to assist him, so she was on the same fighting moratorium.

Rukia did not appear to hear him, but Abarai and Ukitake followed behind her, Byakuya a few steps behind. 

Showing no caution whatsoever, Ukitake and Rukia stuck their heads right into the narrow cleft in the rocks, from which a cold, damp breeze was emanating. “Oh, this is it for sure,” Ukitake surmised. “Kuchiki?”

“Mmm,” she agreed, consulting her meter.

“This is perfect, actually,” Ukitake announced, putting his hands on his hips. “Demons can go through rock, but I think they would prefer to take an open path if they can. Byakuya, you and Abarai can stay out here, and this will act as a bottleneck for any demons that come through.”

“We will not be able to protect you from out here,” Byakuya protested.

“None of this is all that dangerous for us,” Ukitake protested. “It’s dangerous for the Living World. If anything comes up, Rukia will protect me.”

Rukia made a very… _Abarai_ face, and cracked her knuckles in a most unbecoming way.

Byakuya glanced over at Abarai, hoping to see that his adjutant-- a young man who was always extremely diligent when it came to Byakuya’s own personal safety-- was as concerned by all this as he was. But, oddly enough, Abarai was just looking down at Rukia with a facial expression Byakuya couldn’t quite categorize. It appeared to be some combination of pride and vice-captainly solidarity. It did not appear to contain even a trace of worry.

“See you guys, soon!” Ukitake said, heading down into the cave. “We’ll shout if we need anything!”

“Good luck!” Renji waved.

Rukia waggled her eyebrows at Abarai, and followed her captain.

“Er…” Byakuya started. “Rukia…”

“Don’t worry, Brother, I won’t let anything through! Go take a nap or something!”

Go take a--! Byakuya wheeled on his adjutant, surely the man would be similarly outraged, but Renji seemed busy casing the area.

“You ever fought these things before?” Abarai asked. “What d’you think would be the most defensible positions?”

“My understanding is that they will be proto-demons,” Byakuya replied. “They come forth from primordial Hell matter, and are not yet fully formed, so it is impossible to predict their powers beyond the basic characteristics described in our briefing materials. I have not fought them personally before, no. You did read the briefing materials, I hope?”

“Yeah, I read ‘em,” Abarai agreed, probing a fallen tree with his sheathed sword. “Hot guys. Can’t kidou ‘em, can stab ‘em. Be careful, ‘cause sometimes if you stab ‘em wrong, they split into two smaller ones.” Abarai made a slightly pained face. “Hey, Captain?”

Byakuya gave his habitual ‘hey Captain’ response sigh. “Yes, Abarai?”

“You’re real good at this sealin’-up-breaches-with-kidou kinda stuff, too.”

“I suppose.”

“It’s just… Captain Kyouraku’s got Lieutenant Ise, and Captain Ukitake’s got Rukia, and uh, well… I hope I’m not holding you back, ‘sall. Sir.”

Byakuya stared at the sheepish look on his lieutenant’s face. He cleared his throat. “This is a major barrier sealing. The Gotei is frankly lucky to have two soulbound captains who can balance a kidou of this nature from two sides instinctually. If the Kidou Corps were the least bit functional, they would be handling this-- they had yet _another_ high ranking member self-immolate while you were gone. Utter incompetence. In any case, the vast majority of such dimensional repair work is rote, more appropriate for a single captain, highly skilled in kidou, with an alert and dependable lieutenant to watch his back. Do you take my meaning?”

Abarai’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. “Ah, yes, sir.”

Byakuya paused a moment. “Also, these missions are an affront to our dignity. Obviously, it is our duty to serve the Soul Society in whatever capacity we are needed, but… I am grateful for any time your incompetence gets me out of one of these insults.”

Abarai was grinning out of one side of his mouth. “My pleasure, sir.”

* * *

Rukia put her spirit phone on speaker and propped it up on a rock.

“Juushiroooooou! Hi, Juushirou, can you hear me?” Captain Kyouraku’s tinny voice came through.

“Captain, Kuchiki says they’re in position. I will handle the phone, you don’t need to-- STOP TOUCHING MY PHONE.”

Ukitake leaned over. “Hi, Shunsui! I can hear you! Are you ready?”

“Ow! Ow, I can’t do this! Nanao has just injured my hand, we need to reschedule!”

“No good, Shunsui, Byakuya will blow a gasket if we drag him out here again.”

“Ah, what a bother! Fine, fine, let’s get this over with.”

Ukitake grinned at Rukia. “Kuchiki and Ise, once we start this kidou, we can’t stop until it’s complete. We may not need you at all, but if anything goes wrong, we’re counting on you.”

“Understood, sir!” Nanao barked through the phone.

“Understood, sir!” Rukia tried to echo the older woman’s confidence. 

“And pay attention,” Ukitake advised. “Someday, you two will be in charge of these sorts of things.”

“Yes, sir,” Rukia and Nanao agreed at the same time.

The kidou was not one of the standard 99 bakudou, but a full ritual. Rukia held the box of spell components, while her captain traced out a circle of runes with chalk, occasionally adding a pinch of ash or green herbs. He talked continuously while he worked. She suspected he did it to help him keep track of what he had done and what he hadn’t, but she tried to pay attention anyway. 

“Finished the circle!” he announced to the phone, brushing off his hands on his haori.

“Give me another minute, I’m almost done,” Kyouraku called back. 

Ukitake took a long drink of water, and shook out his wrists. 

“Okay, I’m ready!”

“Kuchiki, bring the phone a little closer, will you? Once we get the kidou going, we’ll be able to feel each other, but we need to get our incantations in synch to get started.”

Rukia brought the phone over, and her captain started chanting about guttering coals and cursed mountain tops. She had not expected that vice-captaining would involve holding a speaker-phone, but it beat getting stabbed, as Renji would say. 

Rukia could feel the tendrils of her captain’s kidou digging down into the earth, deeper, into the very material of reality, and down through it. Hot, angry reishi licked at the edge of it. He’d broken through to Hell, she realized. His face twisted a little, and Rukia wondered if she should be doing something. Then, all of sudden, Captain Ukitake’s reiatsu _thrummed_ and Ukitake’s face took on a relaxed, peaceful look. Rukia realized that his kidou had made contact with Captain Kyouraku’s. The feel of them permeated the cave, nearly deafening. It felt so strongly of Captain Ukitake, with the undercurrent of Captain Kyouraku paradoxically making it feel even purer and truer. An undistilled version of himself that was somehow simultaneously _themselves_. 

“Are you okay, Kuchiki?” Nanao’s voice came over the phone on top of Kyouraku’s chanting. “That didn’t knock you out, did it?”

“I’m still here!” Rukia called.

“Oh, good! They always forget how overwhelming they can be.”

“No, I’m fine,” Rukia reassured her. She looked over at her captain. They had completed the initial chant-- she believed there would be two more later-- but for right now, his face was set in concentration.

Rukia wondered absently if she could cast a kidou with Renji. Probably not, he was garbage at kidou. She sucked her teeth thoughtfully. He was certainly capable of generating raw kidou, that was clear. It was probably control that he lacked. Back in school, he had constantly reassured her that his bad arm didn’t cause him any trouble when it came to kidou, and for some reason, she had let herself believe him. Now, looking back on it, especially with her current expertise, that smacked of Renji-bullshit. How could anyone with his level of power and no venting capabilities possibly cast a detonation-style hadou without getting unstarts? But if he could supply the power and she could handle the metering, similar to when they'd burst Yoruichi's bakudou… she wondered if he would be willing to give it a shot. 

Now wasn’t the time, though, she needed to stay on task. Rukia turned her attention back to her captain. 

“We’re done the first part,” Ukitake informed her. “Digging out the old barrier. Now, we have to build up the new one, squeezing the bubble shut slowly. This is gonna be the long, slow part. Get comfortable, but not too comfortable.”

“Got it, sir,” Rukia agreed.

* * *

_Byakuya lay in his sleeping roll._

_He itched, and his face was sweaty under the respirator._

_He wanted to be home and he also never wanted to go home again._

_Byakuya had come on this stupid trip because he was bored. Bored and cantankerous and had nothing better to do with himself than piss off his grandfather. It was a stupid thing to do, which he had known from the start. He was used to the finest luxuries, and now, laying on the ground and squirming with discomfort, he couldn't sleep. He deserved this, obviously._

_He sat up. Hisana lay sprawled in her own bedroll, arms flung wide, snoring noisily._

_Death had handed her the shortest stick in the afterlife. He couldn't even imagine the things she'd gone through before she struck out into this horror land. Had she always been so strong and clever and quick, or had this place made her this way? If it had, the spell wouldn't last. He’d heard her coughing, sharp and wet. The Wilds already had a hold on her lungs, her blood, her bones. And yet, she slept peacefully, a creature of this awful, virulent place._

_Byakuya shifted his weight slightly, and a twig cracked. Hisana sat up in a second, her eyes darting from side-to-side. "What's happening?" she hissed._

_"Ah, apologies," Byakuya stammered. "I couldn't sleep. I must have made a noise."_

_"Ah," Hisana replied, echoing his tone of voice as she settled down again. Was she making fun of him? "Well, you've only paid for two more days, so you'll be back in your silk sheets soon enough."_

_"You sleep well enough in this forsaken place," Byakuya groused._

_"I get my best sleep out here," she agreed._

_"Maybe you should spend some of your earnings on a better bed," he suggested dryly._

_She shrugged. "If I meet my end in the fangs of a viper or the tusks of a boar, I'll be happy enough. If I die at the hands of a man, I'll be pissed as hell." She pulled her blanket over one shoulder. "I'll sleep like the dead once I'm inside the gates of the Seireitei."_

Byakuya shook his head. Had he drifted off? Of course not. He was a Kuchiki, made of iron and ice. He could stand forever without moving. Perhaps this World of the Living vegetation was a bit reminiscent of the tangled flora of the Wilds. Or perhaps, as Abarai said, it was just nostalgic. He just needed to steel himself a bit more, keep his mind alert and his body loose and lithe. He considered running through a few of his grandfather’s favorite meditations, that would be pleasant.

No. It wouldn’t. This was dreadful.

Abarai was hunkered down in a squat that made Byakuya’s hips uncomfortable just to look at it. The man was intensely focused on the cave opening, although he would occasionally glance from side to side, keeping tabs on everything around him. He did not look the least bit bored.

Suddenly, Abarai made a face, and pulled his spirit phone out of his kosode. “Abarai,” he answered. “Oi, yeah. No, nothin’ goin’ on over here. No, I think it’s fine. Did your captain-- yeah, I realize you’re bored. Yeah, he’s here. What is he--? He’s wearing what he always wears.” Abarai’s eyes darted over to Byakuya and back again. “We’re on the clock here, Rangiku. Yeah. Yeah, sure. I promise to call you if anything happens, unless it’s something I have to fight, in which case I will be too busy fighting it to call you. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. I gotta go. I got. To go. Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him.” Abarai flipped his phone shut and sighed heavily. “Squad 10 is bored.”

Byakuya regarded his adjutant coolly as he tucked the spirit phone back into his kosode. “Is there something you were supposed to tell me?”

“Believe me,” Abarai assured him. “I am doing you a big favor by not telling you.”

Byakuya gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Thank you, Abarai.”

* * *

Rukia was yawning, when she noticed her captain’s face take on a pained look. “Captain?” she asked.

“Can you call Shunsui?” he asked. They had cut off the call earlier to save battery. “What’s going on over there?” he asked, once Rukia had gotten ahold of the other side.

“There’s a hard part, like a knot,” Captain Kyouraku’s strained voice came back. “I’m gonna push real hard on it, see if it gives.”

“Hmm. Hold on a second. Kuchiki, be ready.”

Rukia drew her sword. “Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead, Shunsui,” Ukitake suggested. 

“It’ll be fine,” Kyouraku assured. “Here goes!”

“Oops, watch out!”

Rukia jumped in front of her captain, just as a glowing red shape forced its way through the area where Ukitake had been focusing his kidou. The shape curled and wrapped itself around Rukia’s blade, and she swung wildly, flinging it into the corner of the cave. The shape formed a vaguely humanoid face with ember-like eyes and a wide, screaming mouth. Rukia’s sword was glowing red and hot. Without hesitation, she released into shikai, an icy blast of reiatsu washing over her. The demon in the corner hissed at her, and flew into the air, whipping around them toward the exit.

“Let it go!” Ukitake commanded. “Squad 6’ll get it. Shunsui, one got through--”

“I didn’t quite get it, Juushirou! I’m gonna try again.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Well, do you have a better one?”

“Dammit,” Ukitake muttered. “All right, Shunsui, go for it.”

Rukia adjusted her grip on her sword. “I am here, sir.”

“It’s really stuck… ehn… oh, it’s going! There it goes!” Kyouraku crowed, just as the cave flooded with red light.

“We’ve got a rupture on this side!” Ukitake yelled, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Do you need to stop?” Rukia asked, swatting at a fire demon as it swooped out of reach. They definitely did not like Sode no Shirayuki.

“Can’t stop, gotta finish!” Ukitake shouted. 

“What do you need, sir?” Rukia shouted.

“I just need space!”

“Space coming up, sir!” Rukia stepped to one side, and called out a _Hakuren_ , then took two steps to the other side, and called out a second one. Her captain was now sheltered by a wall of ice and snow on either side. She stood in front of him, projecting as much reiatsu as she could, trying to make herself as big and as cold as possible.

Fire demons swirled out of the breech, keeping to the walls of the cave, trying to stay as far away from the ice walls and the crazy cold lady as they could.

“Good. Good job, Kuchiki,” Ukitake nodded. “Keep it up. Shunsui! We need to finish this as fast as we can, _you got it_?”

“Aye-aye, cutie!”

* * *

  
  
Byakuya waved his hand, slicing another fire demon into bits with his zanpakutou. They were very weak, but there were a lot of them and they were everywhere. It made him angry, down in his core, how _well-suited_ Senbonzakura was to this task. Curse that Yamamoto for being so irritatingly _right_.

He glanced to the side, where Abarai had managed to catch four of them on this extended sword at once. They smashed together in a very satisfying manner as he retracted the blades with that familiar _chonk-chonk-chonk-chonk-chonk._ It would appear that Zabimaru was also very well-suited to this task.

This had been going on for too long.

“Abarai!” Byakuya barked.

“Yeah, Captain?”

“Can you hold them yourself?”

Abarai quickly surveyed the area. “I would have to go to bankai, sir, but yes!”

“I’m going in.”

“Yes, sir!” Abarai slammed his sword through another three demons. “They’re fine, sir, Rukia and Captain Ukitake, that is! Just so you know!”

“What do you know of it?!” Byakuya snarled, trying to clear his way to the mouth of the cave.

“I know Rukia’s reiatsu, sir, and she’s fighting, sir, but she’s fine! In her glory, as it were!”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes, and slammed Senbonzakura through ten fire demons at once. The tide could turn at any moment. He did not like this. “I am going in. Hold the line, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir!” Abarai agreed without any further backtalk. “ _Bankai!_ ”

The cave entrance was narrow and twisted and full of fire demons fighting their way to the surface. Byakuya sent Senbonzakura before him, but he didn’t want to push too far ahead until he had eyes on Rukia and Ukitake. He kept getting sprayed with sparks and bits of magma-like material, but he soldiered onward. Finally, he broke through into the main cavern.

Ukitake was shouting a chant, kidou swirling around his body like a tornado. This was likely the final seal. The man’s reiatsu, amplified by that of his partner, filled the cave, pounding in Byakuya’s ears and taking his breath away. 

Byakuya realized with shock that Rukia had blocked off a large portion of the cavern with a massive ice wall, in addition to two more sheltering Ukitake. Fire demons were escaping through the main one, but a huge mass of them were trapped behind it, trying to force their way through the breach. She was dashing back and forth, reinforcing her barricades, and stabbing fire demons. Her head whipped around. “Brother!” she called. “Is everything all right?”

Ukitake brought his hand down, and the kidou collapsed like a neutron star, drawing all the demons still trapped behind the ice wall back into their own dimension. The reiatsu in the cave abruptly disappeared, its absence ringing in their ears.

A single fire demon was still bouncing around. 

Byakuya waved his hand absently, and Senbonzakura tore through it.

“Whew!” Ukitake breathed out. “We did it!”

“Great job, sir!” Rukia announced.

“Great job to _you_ , Kuchiki!” Ukitake returned. “Lucky thing I brought you along! Shunsui owes you a drink for sure!”

“No one,” replied Byakuya, “is buying my sister a drink.”

~ end part 9


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya bones it, just, _super hard._

* * *

* * *

“Aww, it looks like your team had all the fun,” Matsumoto fussed when they came back through the senkaimon.

“No one had any fun,” Byakuya intoned.

Rukia glanced over at her brother. His haori was spattered with small burn marks, and his face was stony. She had expected him to be serious on missions, but he seemed actively upset about something. She glanced back at Renji, looking for some hint as to whether this was just typical Byakuya-on-the-job or not. 

Renji was yawning.

“I think that Shunshui and I can handle the report to the Captain-Commander,” Ukitake offered. “The rest of you can go back to work. Thank you everyone for your help!”

“We should go get a drink!” Matsumoto chirped. 

“You didn’t _do_ anything,” Hitsugaya protested. “We’re going back to the office.”

“I will accompany you to see the Captain-Commander,” Byakuya announced. He glanced over at Renji, who looked downright exhausted. Rukia recalled Renji and Captain Hitsugaya both mentioning, back when they were on the Advance Team, that going to bankai with a power limiter was incredibly draining. “Lieutenant, tell the Third Seat to take over the rest of your responsibilities for today. You may have the afternoon off.”

Renji looked like he had just taken a brick to the back of his head. He made a choking noise in his throat. “Uh, er, yes, sir!”

Rukia stared at her brother in mild horror. He was clearly not feeling well.

“Good thought, Byakuya,” Ukitake agreed. “Kuchiki, you should take the rest of the day easy, too. You worked really hard!”

“I feel fine, actually,” Rukia reassured him. 

“There you go, Captain! Renji and Rukia can go to the bar with us!” Matsumoto trilled.

“I didn’t give _you_ the afternoon off!”

“Rukia, you will go home and rest,” Byakuya ordered sternly.

Rukia wrinkled her brow. “Brother, I’m _not tired_.”

Byakuya’s eyes narrowed at her, stormy and cold.

Rukia took a deep breath through her nose.

Renji clapped her gently on the shoulder. “Sometimes overexertion doesn’t hit right away. Don’t look a gift nap in the mouth.” He glanced at his captain briefly, and back to Rukia.

Rukia set her jaw. Renji did love naps, it was true, but he was really telling her not to do this in front of everyone, and, of course, he was right. She hated it when he was right. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you at home. Brother.”

Byakuya’s only response was the slightest of nods. 

* * *

Byakuya returned home tired, hungry, and frustrated.

Ukitake and Kyouraku had felt the need to describe _every, single, excruciating_ detail of their dimensional binding to the Head-Captain. Yamamoto seemed to find it so fascinating that, halfway through, he called in Lieutenant Sasakibe and made them _start again from the beginning_.

Ukitake had then launched into an enthusiastic dissertation on how helpful and useful and professional Rukia had been, which segued into a further appreciation for the back-up provided by Squad Six.

How was he, Byakuya, supposed to then lambast the man for his utter lack of professionalism? His loss of control over the entire enterprise? His carelessness in the stewardship of Byakuya’s precious sister? He could hardly argue that, as an unseated officer, she had no business even being there, when Ukitake had just spoken so glowingly of her.

“Has Rukia been informed that I am home?” Byakuya asked, as Seike took his haori. “I would like to have dinner as soon as possible.”

“Lady Rukia said she was very tired after her mission,” Seike replied. “She took an early dinner and said she would be retiring.”

Oh.

Well.

Very sensible of her.

It’s not like Byakuya was any stranger to dining alone.

* * *

Byakuya did not sleep.

He hated it when he couldn’t sleep.

Usually, he lay down in bed, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. It was as simple as that. When one slept alone, it was a simple matter to have all aspects of the bedroom exactly as one liked it-- the perfect texture of sheets, the perfect temperature, the perfect level of light and noise. There was no one to toss and turn beside him, to cough or to stumble off to the bathroom in the middle of the night, to burrow into his side, to brush an icy cold foot against his.

Sleeping should be trivial.

But every time he closed his eyes, he was back in the Wilds again, making the best and most foolhardy promises of his entire life. 

_As he recited the poem, he would look up from time to time, noticing as her face became more and more contorted in horror. Kuchiki Byakuya had never been rejected by another person in his entire life. He didn't know what it felt like. He knew what he felt like right now, which was hot and strangely detached from himself, as though he might float away into the air like one of Senbonzakura’s petals. He also felt very proud of his poem-- as he read the words aloud they felt true, truer than the stupid shit that usually poured out of his mouth. He was even beginning to think like her, he realized. Good. Perfect._

_He finished reciting and tried to smile at her, before realizing she probably couldn't see it under his respirator. Frantically, he wrestled it off, and flashed her the most pathetic, hopeful smile that had ever graced his noble face. It was worth a month of his life, no question._

_"What do you want from me?" she asked, all her usual brashness stripped away._

_"I’m in love with you," he blurted out. "Come home with me." He hadn't thought any of this out. He meant every word of it. He wanted this, in a way he had never wanted anything before._

_Her face turned red and her eyes narrowed. "I won't be your-- your--"_

_His own face burned. "No! You don't understand! I want to marry you!"_

_"Have the Wastes turned you mad?" she whispered._

_"I have everything," he announced. "I did nothing to get it. I try to be worthy of my name, I try to bring honor to my family, but until I met you, hard work and determination were just ideas to me. Swinging a sword in the garden for a few hours. You've worked so hard, you're such an amazing person, and this place is going to kill you, Hisana. Come home with me. Let me give you the life you deserve."_

_"You don't even know me," she murmured._

_"Organizing a noble marriage takes forever," Byakuya noted, plans forming in his head. "Be my betrothed then. I'll buy you a house in the Seireitei or one of the higher districts or even Inuzuri, if that's what you want. Give me a chance, give me a year, and if you don't want to be with me, you can walk away. Just don't come back here. Don't let the Wilds kill you."_

_Something in her eyes was wavering. He stepped closer._

_“You don’t have to love me back,” he said quietly._

_"I don't know," she said slowly, some of her usual bravado creeping back into her voice, as he pulled her mask down, tucking it under her chin. "You seem like kind of an asshole."_

_"I'm a huge asshole," he informed her, and kissed her with everything he had in his heart._

The problem with other people, in Byakuya’s opinion, was that you could make a nice, neat little space for them in your heart and in your life, and they refused to stay there. They insisted on getting their grubby little fingerprints on all aspects of your life. Making you defy your house and filling your study with drawings of rabbits and ruining your sleep. Maybe it wasn’t all people. Maybe it was just low-born people from the deep Rukon, the small, dark-haired kind in particular. It wasn’t their fault. They likely had never been taught any better. Although, the lumbering, red-haired variety seemed to do a fine enough job of being generally useful, while throwing in just enough “Hey Captain”-ry and tea crimes to remain appropriately detestable.

Byakuya sat up.

Sleep was not going to happen.

He was going for a walk.

* * *

Rukia was tugging a brush through her hair when there was a rap on her door. Good. She was starving. “Come in.”

Mikan shuffled in, conspicuously _not_ carrying breakfast.

“Pardon, Lady Rukia,” she said quietly. “Lord Byakuya has requested that you join him in the dining room for breakfast this morning.”

Rukia scowled and checked the time. She usually took breakfast in her room so she could get that extra 15 minutes of sleep, but if she ate quickly and walked briskly, she could still probably still make it to work on time. Depending on what it was Byakuya wanted. Probably just to make her late for work, to prove he could, she thought bitterly to herself, although to be fair, that wasn’t his usual style. In any case, none of this was Mikan’s fault. “I’ll be right down,” she promised.

Byakuya was sitting in his usual spot, dressed for work. Rukia didn’t usually see him about the house at this hour, although for all she knew, he woke up at 4am every morning and composed poetry for three hours before work. He looked kind of terrible, actually. Paler than usual, with dark hollows under his eyes.

“Are you feeling alright this morning, Brother?” Rukia asked gently, taking her seat. “You look a little ill.”

“One of my family members has been causing me undue worry,” he replied stiffly.

A servant placed a bowl of rice in front of Rukia and she gave a nod of thanks. “Is it Aunt Azami again? You should really--”

“No, Rukia.”

Rukia looked up from her food at his harsh tone, and her breath caught.

Byakuya hadn’t looked at her like that since… since…

“Me?” she exclaimed. “What have I done?”

“Perhaps it is not your fault,” Byakuya went on. “It is most likely mine. I have indulged you for too long, but I must put my foot down. If you wish to maintain your role in the Gotei, we will find you a more administrative post. Perhaps in the First Division, the Captain-Commander seems fond enough of you. Or perhaps you would like to transfer to the support staff of the Central 46, I am sure I could find you a very respectable position.”

“What are you _talking_ about, Byakuya?” Rukia shouted, slamming her chopsticks down on the table.

“It is clear to me that your captain does not take appropriate care to safeguard the officers entrusted to his care--”

“ _You_ left Renji to handle all those fire demons by himself!”

Byakuya slammed his fist on the table. “ _That_ is different!”

“ _How?_ ” Rukia howled.

“You are an important member of my clan, of immeasurable value! The First Daughter of the Kuchiki!”

“Oh, come off it! The other Kuchiki would just as soon be rid of me. If I had any value to the clan at all, you would have married me off by now! The only reason you keep me around is because--”

“You! Are! Of! Immeasurable Value!”

“You can’t even say it!”

“I do not have to say anything! I am your Clan Head, and you will do as I say! I do not wish to hear any more of lieutenancies! Apparently, even keeping you unseated was insufficient to keep you out of trouble! You must take better care of yourself, Rukia!”

Rukia’s ears rang. Magma seemed to be running through her veins, starting in her hands, creeping toward her heart. “What… did you say?”

“I said you must take better care of yourself,” Byakuya echoed, the anger slowly running out of his voice, replaced with something that might have been sadness or possibly just weariness.

“No, before that. About being seated.”

Byakuya folded his hands. “In a functional squad, under competent leadership, an unseated officer such as yourself would never find themselves in the sorts of situations you are constantly stumbling into.”

“You. You…” Rukia couldn’t seem to make her mouth form the words. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t that…” She gritted her teeth. “Brother, did you ask my captain not to seat me?”

He closed his eyes imperiously. “I did not ‘ask’ him. I _told_ him. It was part of the terms of your employment.”

Rukia’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Slowly, she rose to her feet. “I… have to go, now.”

“If you do not wish to submit your resignation in person, I will handle it for you.”

“You _will not_ ,” Rukia snapped. 

Byakuya’s eyes flew open. “Do not talk back to me!”

“What are you gonna do, disown me? Go ahead! I’d rather have a rank I deserve than a name I don’t!”

She refused to look at his face as she stomped from the room. 

* * *

"He's not great today, Rukia," Kiyone begged. "Yesterday was too much, it really did him in. Can't this wait?"

"I'm not asking him to run a marathon, I just have a question," Rukia said, her voice low and nearly affectless. She couldn’t even really remember her journey down to the 13th, the hot rage in her veins cooling into cold, heavy iron. 

Byakuya was full of shit.

She needed to give her captain a chance to explain himself. It was only fair.

Kiyone sighed, and let her in.

Captain Ukitake was sitting at his desk with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and a hot-water bottle balanced precariously on his head. Sentarou was replacing his mug of tea with a fresh one.

"What's wrong, Kuchiki?" he asked immediately, registering her pale, serious face. His voice was ragged.

"Did you," she started slowly. She took a deep breath. "Did you promise my brother not to seat me? Sir."

"Oh," Ukitake said, very softly. "Yes. That's correct."

Rukia nodded rapidly. Well. That was that, then.

"You certainly deserved a seat. I asked him many times, but…" He fiddled with his mug. "How did you find out? Did Abarai tell you?"

"No, Brother told me himself," Rukia replied stiffly. "He was-- what did you just say?"

Captain Ukitake had taken a lot of medicine that day and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. It took a moment to rewind the last thing he had said. “Oh, no,” was all he could manage in response.

* * *

"See, you want to swing more from the shoulder, not the wrist, like this." Renji demonstrated, while Rikichi watched very carefully.

"Now you do it."

Rikichi started to raise his sword arm and froze. His eyes had gone wide and unblinking.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" Renji asked, waving a hand in front of Rikichi’s face.

The problem was, it was so big, it overloaded his senses at first. But once he heard the shouting, the spiritual pressure crashed into him with the weight of a glacier.

" ** _ABARAI RENJI!!!_ **"

By the time she came stomping onto his training field, he had gone into shikai in order to catch his breath under the weight of her reiatsu. She was wreathed in bluish-white flame, her eyes glinting with killing intent. In his heart, he had always known this day would come, even though he had no idea what it was he had done.

"I am sure I deserve this," he managed to croak out, wondering if he needed to release his bankai, "but do you think you could crank it down for a minute before poor Rikichi gets brain damage?" He pointed down, where Rikichi had fallen over and was lying in a boneless heap.

Rukia startled out of her rage. Renji felt like someone had lifted a barbell off his chest.

"Go home, Rikichi!" Rukia yelled at the kid.

An uncoordinated mass of limbs, Rikichi scrambled to his feet and scampered toward the barracks.

Slowly, Rukia’s head swung around to face Renji, and her spiritual pressure began to ramp up again. “You... _knew_ ,” she hissed out.

“I... what?” he managed to sputter out.

Rukia took a deep breath through her nose, the corners of her mouth turning down. Renji braced himself for violence, and suddenly realized that she actually looked like she was about to burst into tears. He had seen Rukia cry maybe half a dozen times in his life, none recently, always against her will. Seeing Rukia cry was absolutely worse than being crushed to death by her reiatsu. “You knew,” she bit off, “that my brother,” her eyes narrowed, “kept me from being seated.”

Oh. _Oh. Oh, no_.

Renji swallowed. “Yeah. I knew.”

Her face twisted, her nose wrinkling and her cheeks bunching. “H-how long have you known?”

Renji’s stomach clenched. “It was last summer. When you had lost your powers. Right… right when we became friends again.”

She was shaking her head back and forth.

“Did-- did he _tell_ you?”

“No, no!” Renji tried to hold up his hands defensively and realized he was still holding his sword. He didn't really know what to do with it. He was still in shikai and if he tried to seal it, he probably wouldn't be able to talk. “I don't even think he knows I know. Look. Rukia. There are only two things I’m good at: hitting things with my sword and training people. I can tell who’s good and who isn’t. And it was obvious to me, even without seeing your powers, that you were better than half the seated officers in Six. Your own Third Seats are… well, they’re not great, let’s just say, and I asked your captain about it and he owned up.”

She swallowed thickly. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

He hadn’t… he hadn’t _meant_ to not tell her. Their friendship had been so precarious at the time. And her newfound relationship with Byakuya even more so. How could he…? It was never his place to… It would have crushed her. In exactly the way she was crushed right now. “I should have,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Rukia stared at him. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“I was wrong? It was shitty of me? Do you want me to make excuses for it? Would that make it better? I didn’t know how to tell you, so I didn’t, and I’m really, really, _really_ sorry, okay?” 

Rukia’s hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She said nothing.

Renji took a step toward her. His heart ached for her. “Rukia. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you found out this way and that you’re hurting and--” He had reached out to put his free hand on her shoulder, but as it drew near, something in their reiatsu reacted, and a spark jumped between them. “Ow!” he exclaimed, wagging his hand, as if he could shake off the pain. "What the hell was that?"

Rukia winced and hunched her shoulders. “Of course you are. Of course you’re sorry I found out. It would have been a lot easier for you if I never had, right?”

“That’s not what I--”

“Well, I’ll make it a lot easier for you. How about you never speak to me again, how’s that?”

“Rukia!”

She turned on her heel and walked away, making a rude gesture over her shoulder as she left.

* * *

Byakuya picked up his brush. He put it back down again. He did not feel like doing paperwork. He did not feel like doing much of anything.

This was absolutely absurd. 

He was the clan head, he made difficult decisions all the time. He did what was good for the family, and if sometimes that was hurtful to certain individuals, so be it.

He should march over to the Thirteenth and give Ukitake a piece of his mind and send Rukia home, where she belonged.

But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Rukia wasn't a "certain individual." 

She was the only person in fifty years who thought of him as a person instead of a walking pile of clan regalia and right now, she _hated_ him, and he did not care for it. If he destroyed her career, she might… she might never… He frowned. She might never speak to him again, as it _was_.

"Abarai," he said listlessly. 

His adjutant looked up, and Byakuya realized the young man looked utterly dreadful, dark circles under his eyes, execrable posture. Even his ponytail seemed less exuberant than usual. 

"Have you spoken to Rukia today?" he asked, perfectly aware of how pathetic he was being. He wondered if Abarai would be willing to pass on all the horrible things she had likely said about him. He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to hear them.

"Yes, sir, I have."

"Did she happen to mention a small disagreement that occurred this morning? Between her and myself?"

"Only in passing."

Ah. Perhaps her anger had been fleeting. He himself had said a few things he regretted, and Rukia, sweet, forgiving soul that she was, probably understood that he was a passionate person who sometimes became over-emotional. "How was...her temperament?"

Abarai pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Oh, fires of Hell, sir. Seen feral boars that were less pissed off."

So much for that. Byakuya rubbed his index finger against his forehead. This was humiliating, but he needed to get through to Rukia. This was killing him. "Lieutenant. My sister, for whatever reason, I cannot fathom it, values your opinions. Do you think it would be possible--"

"I can't help you, sir," Abarai cut him off, his face an unreadable mix of emotions.

"I see," Byakuya replied. Abarai was correct, it was unprofessional to have even asked, and of course--

"She ain't talking to me, either."

Byakuya froze, the information slowly permeating his brain. Was it possible? That his loyal, dependable, _sensible_ adjutant had… had… "Did you _take my side_?" Byakuya asked, trying to keep a hopeful tinge from entering his voice.

"Like hell I did!" Abarai exploded. He quickly composed himself, but he did not offer an apology for his outburst. He set his jaw. "I knew, sir. I knew and I didn't tell her, and she's right to be mad at me. "

Byakuya didn’t need to explain himself to this useless lout. "She takes too many risks. It is unacceptable for a woman of her position. I told her not to take the lieutenant’s examination."

Abarai stood up suddenly, his chair scraping noisily against the floor. "Permission to go do some surprise inspections, sir?"

Byakuya blinked at him. "What?"

Abarai's face was screwed up, the bridge of his nose scrunched. "Today started out real bad for me, sir!" he shouted unnecessarily. "I would very much like to avoid continuing in that vein by either gettin' fired or ending up in the Coordinated Relief Station, but Kuchiki Rukia is the finest shinigami in the Gotei and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. You're no exception, sir, so I think it would be best for me to leave right now and go yell at the guys in the Third Barracks for that stash of girly mags they think I don't know about! Sir!"

Byakuya felt like he had whiplash. "Yes. Perhaps that would be best."

* * *

Rukia slammed her fist into the practice dummy again. Her knuckles had split long ago and stung fiercely, but if she stopped, she was going to have to start thinking again.

" _Kuchiki Rukia!_ "

Rukia froze, her shoulders hunched. Her heart stopped mid-beat. Only one voice filled with admonishment could cause her body to flood with such shame.

The Seventh Seat of the Fourth Division was standing in the doorway.

Her head swiveled toward him.

"Ms. Kuchiki," Hanatarou said sternly. "You must be more responsible with your reiatsu around junior shinigami! You could have hurt someone very badly!"

Rukia suddenly felt terrible, the weight of everything crashing down on her at once. She had yelled at her brother, she had bothered her captain when he was ill, she had screamed at Renji, and-- "I didn't hurt Rikichi, did I? she asked, miserably.

"He's alright, Abarai made him drink a bunch of milk," Hanatarou replied, still very serious. "He doesn't like it when you and Abarai fight, though, he was very upset." Hanatarou's face finally softened. "What happened, Rukia? This isn't like you. Are you alright?"

Rukia threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

* * *

“Well, I’m sorry you’re beefing with Rukia, but I’m glad it means you finally have time for us,” Momo noted loftily.

Izuru kicked her under the table and shot daggers at her with his eyes.

“I’m ignoring you, Izuru. I say what I think now, it’s the new Momo.”

“She’s right,” Renji sighed dejectedly. “I am the worst friend, on top of being the worst best friend.”

Momo patted his hand. “Oh, I didn’t say that! Toushirou is the worst friend, you’re not even close.”

“What did he do?” Renji asked, sitting up a little.

“Oh, he’s just convinced I’m going to trip and fall on someone’s sword if I so much as go outside. He keeps _showing up_ , and trying to keep me from doing things. Like my job.”

“What does Captain Hirako think of that?” Izuru asked, guardedly.

“He...kinda thinks its funny,” Momo replied, with a sly smile. “And if he sees Toushirou around, he’ll start shouting things like, ‘Oh, no, there’s a banana peel, Hinamori NOOOOOOO!’ and run over and collapse dramatically in front of me.”

Renji snorted.

“That sounds awful, why do you put up with it?” Izuru griped.

“It’s kind of great, actually. If you could see Toushirou’s face on these occasions, you would understand.”

"Who are you to talk?" Renji noted, briefly knocked loose of his depression by the recollection of a piece of hot gossip he had picked up. "I heard your captain saved you from a Hollow. I heard he picked you up and carried you around like a baby."

"I am going to murder you," Izuru informed him.

"Go ahead. I have nothing to live for."

"I need you to tell me who told you that, first, though."

"Matsumoto."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck," Izuru groaned.

"No point in murdering Renji, then, it won't help anything," Momo pointed out. "Three quarters of the Gotei already knows by now."

"I know, and he would be such a hassle to try to kill, as if he hasn't already bled all over me enough times."

"Plus, then you'd have to deal with his big, stupid corpse," Momo added. "Not worth it."

"Not worth it," Izuru agreed. "Sorry, Renji, you're not getting out of it, you're just going to have to make up with Kuchiki."

"I… would love that, actually!" Renji waved his sake in the air. "It's not really up to me!"

"Did you actually try apologizing?" Momo asked.

"O' course I did!"

"Was it a good apology or was it a Renji apology?"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Renji exclaimed.

Momo put on what was presumably a Renji-face, although Renji didn't think he scrunched up his eyebrows _that_ much. "Welp, I burned your house down and stepped on your dog and also I forgot your birthday last year, but I am _very_ sorry."

" _So_ sorry," Izuru chipped in. "I mean, there's a perfectly logical explanation for my actions, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. Did I mention that I'm sorry?"

"Just unbelievably sorry. Also, did I mention that I am the worst? I am, in fact, the worst, you may or may not have known that."

"That’s how apologies work! What the fuck, you jerks?”

“Why... _didn’t_ you tell her about being unseated?” Izuru pressed.

Renji fidgeted. “Y’know, if I recall, you were the one who warned me, real early on, about pittin’ myself between her an’ her brother.”

“I do recall saying that, yes.”

“And he had just barely started treating her like a person and she was real nervous about it, but I could tell it made her happy, and how could I interfere with that? I mean, at first, there was a selfish part, too, that it could really backfire, and he might fire me, or she might get mad at me instead of him. But the longer it went on, I could tell they were really gettin’ to like each other, and they’re two people who don’t get to likin’ other people real easy, and who the hell am I to get in the middle of that, y’know?”

Momo and Izuru looked at one another, and then back at Renji.

“You didn’t try to tell her any of this, did you?” Momo asked patiently.

“Look, I’m the one that screwed up. I’m not gonna try to cover up my mistake with shitty excuses.”

Momo and Izuru looked at one another again, and then back at Renji.

“And what would you have done differently?” Izuru asked sweetly. “If you had the chance to do it over?”

Renji contemplated this. “I have no idea.”

"Sometimes people make mistakes, Renji," Momo said. "You did what you thought was...well, maybe not best, but _least worst_."

"Rukia is your friend, you moron," Izuru reminded him. "Do you think she wouldn't understand that?"

Renji took a big drink. “Look, I respect Rukia’s feelings. She’s got a right to be mad at me for this, and I’m gonna let her have that.” He blew some air out between his lips. “Sooner or later, she'll forgive me. I hope.”

Izuru and Momo looked at each other and shook their heads. 

“Have you thought about writing a song about her?” suggested Momo.

* * *

The waterfall was still leaking.

After pouring her heart out to Hanatarou, Rukia had gone home and taken dinner alone in her room. No summons came, demanding her company, like some spoiled fairy tale prince.

She was tired, and she just wanted to sink into sleep, but her brain was still spinning frantically, so she decided to remind herself that solitude was part of her nature, that she was meant to be alone.

Rukia walked toward the lake, snow crunching under her feet. There was a little stump a few feet from the water's edge. She brushed it off and sat down on it. It should have been silent here and the gurgle of flowing water echoed, too-loud, in her ears.

"Is this what it means to be connected to other people?" she wondered out loud. "Part of yourself constantly draining away, the noise of it driving you crazy?"

She let her awareness drift down, down below the lake, trying to touch Sode no Shirayuki hibernating by herself, the root of Rukia's strength, slumbering in solitude. But the little mud den was gone, the turtle departed.

There was a scraping noise behind her, and a pale reindeer stepped out of the woods. It came up to her and settled down in the snow, resting its shaggy head in Rukia's lap. Rukia ran her fingers through Sode no Shirayuki's thick coat.

"We're changing, aren't we?" Rukia said softly. "Both of us."

Sode no Shirayuki gave a gentle snort.

"Hmm," Rukia replied, stroking her zanpakutou spirit and staring out over the lake.

* * *

Byakuya was much more careful about his arrival time at this week's Captains' Meeting, but apparently, this was no longer sufficient to avoid interpersonal distractions.

"I'd like to speak with you, if you have a few minutes," Captain Hitsugaya pulled him aside afterwards. "Maybe we could go over to my office."

"Perhaps my office," Byakuya suggested.

Hitsugaya frowned uncomfortably. "Is Abarai going to be around?"

Byakuya scowled, feeling that he had been seen through. "Your adjutant is _also_ very off-putting!"

Hitsugaya blinked at him. "Oh, no, I like Abarai just fine, it's… it'll make sense after I explain. And in any case, I sent Matsumoto off on a mission. By which I mean I sent her to go get dumplings. She won't be back for hours."

The offices of the Tenth were distinctly more _casual_ than those of the Sixth. "You can sit on the couch," Hitsugaya offered. "Can I make you some tea?"

"I will accept tea," Byakuya declared. "I will not sit on that piece of furniture."

Hitsugaya eyed it. "It's very sentimental."

Of course it was. Everything about the couch screamed that it was an artifact of Squad 10's previous captain. 

"Half the time, I come in here, and someone else's lieutenant is napping on it," Hitsugaya grumbled.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. "Is that what this is about? Because I will _certainly_ \--"

Hitsugaya's eyes widened. "Oh, no, it's hardly ever him! Also, he always seems like he could really use a nap, I would never begrudge the poor guy…" Hitsugaya trailed off and then abruptly changed direction. "No, er, I...this seems a little silly now… I guess I just needed someone to vent to, and I thought you might understand."

"Understand what?"

"Having a sister."

"Ah, yes. I have one of those," Byakuya declared.

Hitsugaya handed him a cup of tea. It actually had a very pleasing, floral bouquet. "And it, er, occurred to me after that mission the other day-- well, I wouldn't have expected you would need to worry over Kuchiki much-- she's tough as nails. She's also one of the most ornery people I've ever met, though, she must give you ulcers."

Byakuya opened his mouth and then closed it again. After a pause, he said, "I do not care for it when people speak ill of my beloved sister. She _is_ however, quite ornery, is she not? It seems to be a recent development."

Hitsugaya squeezed his lips into a thin line. "Nooooo, she's pretty much been like that as long as I've known her."

"I think I have known my sister a bit longer than you," Byakuya chided.

Hitsugaya shrugged. "She and I did some training together, back when we were both serving under a Shiba. I wouldn't say we were close, but I got to know her well enough to know not to cross her. I first met her a long time before that, actually-- Abarai was friends with my sister in school, and Momo and Kira used to take turns bringing him home on breaks. Kuchiki came, too, once. I think that was the time Abarai spent most of the week re-thatching my grandmother's roof. She was nominally helping him, but I think she was mostly just criticizing his work. It was a good job, though, Granny still asks when Momo’s going to bring him back around."

Byakuya stared at the captain of the Tenth in utter befuddlement, trying to rearrange the words he had just spoken into some sort of coherent story. The characters in it seemed to share names with a number of his acquaintances, but nothing else about it seemed familiar. 

"And to get back to the point: _Hinamori is driving me crazy_."

"Lieutenant Hinamori is your sister?" Byakuya asked, latching onto whatever solid ground he could. "You bear very little resemblance to one another."

"Rukongai siblings," Hitsugaya clarified. 

Byakuya looked blank.

"I would have thought…Kuchiki has never explained this to you…? People just sort of get together and make families out of whoever is handy. Whoever you like and get along with. Momo and I were raised by the same woman. We call her our grandmother, although she's not related to either of us, not in the way you're used to. We're not even really siblings the way you think of siblings, we're just family. Like you and Kuchiki are family."

"I see," Byakuya nodded. He did have a vague memory of Rukia mentioning this once, although he did not recall any parental figures being mentioned. "I was also raised by a grandparent," he mentioned, to show that he related to this conversation.

Hitsugaya looked relieved. "Okay. So. Momo is a beautiful and gentle person."

"Ah, much like my own sister," Byakuya agreed.

"Riiiiiight. And she really got put through the wringer, recently."

"Again, much like Rukia," Byakuya nodded.

Hitsugaya nodded, too. "And she's better now, and of course I'm happy that she's back to work, because that's who she is, of course."

"Of… course," Byakuya said, more slowly this time.

"And do not mistake me, Captain Hirako is a fine soul, and I am very pleased that he--"

"His haircut is an abomination. Abarai forewarned me, but I was _not_ prepared."

"Yeah, it's bad." Hitsugaya blinked, his train thought completely derailed. "Wow. And you have to stand almost across from him, too. You had to stare at it all meeting."

"It could be worse. You have to look at Zaraki."

"It's fine, I can only see up to his knees. I do not like meetings where we have to bring our lieutenants, though, that is just…" He shook his head angrily. Byakuya considered tactfully suggesting that Captain Hitsugays avoid that gesture-- it made him look very much like a terrier.

"You do not need to expand. I understand." Byakuya sipped his tea. "This is lovely tea."

"Thank you! There's a little shop down on River Dragon Street, they have excellent blends."

"I shall ask my steward if he knows of it. You were speaking of Captain Hirako?"

"Yes! Right! He is not careful enough with my sister!"

"This is an endemic problem among Gotei captains, I feel!"

"Yes!"

"Exactly!"

"What can we do about it, though?"

"A strongly worded letter?"

Hitsugaya shook his head. "It won't do. The last thing I want is someone telling me to be more careful with _my_ lieutenant."

Byakuya made a horrified face. "Heavens, no! Why would I even have him, if not to be impaled on things that would otherwise be impaling me?"

Hitsugaya made a rather alarmed face. "Er, right. So the problem is not the captains, the problem is the sisters."

"Perhaps…" Byakuya drawled. "Perhaps sisters just shouldn't be permitted in the Gotei."

"No, that's dumb," Hitsugaya waved off. "Hinamori's too good at inventing horrifying kidou and Kuchiki's too good at sowing chaos and destruction, it's better if they have something productive to do."

"My sister is good at _what_?" Byakuya gawped. 

Hitsugaya did not appear to be listening. "It's like she doesn't know how _important_ she is sometimes," he sighed. 

“Precisely,” Byakuya echoed. “ _Precisely_. I have tried to tell her, but she is not a good listener.”

Hitsugaya chewed his lip. “I haven’t really… gone that route. You said it doesn’t work, though? Telling people how you feel? Because that sounds terrible.”

Byakuya considered. "It might have gone better had I not yelled it."

Hitsugaya stared at him in horror. "I can't imagine you yelling."

Byakuya opened his mouth to reply, but he honestly had no excuse. "I should not have," he finished lamely, the truth of the statement sitting heavy in his stomach.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their tea.

"I apologize," Byakuya finally said. "I have not been helpful."

"No, I think you have," Hitsugaya replied absently. "I still don't know what to do, but I feel… less bad."

"Because I am doing worse than you?" Byakuya asked, mildly offended.

"Well, yeah," Hitsugaya admitted. "I mean, you've always got everything together, and even you can screw up around your sister sometimes."

"Ah," Byakuya frowned, not entirely sure if that was a compliment or not. He decided to take it as one. "Thank you."

"Thank you for listening. I'm… in sort of a weird position, being such a young captain. I don't have a lot of people I can talk to. I really appreciate it."

Byakuya waved a hand. "I understand. I was quite young myself when I was appointed, and several of the other captains knew me in my youth, which was… awkward. Despite your age, you are still probably one of the more rational and level-headed among our number." Hitsugaya's cheeks brightened, and Byakuya realized belatedly that the younger man _admired_ him. A year ago, he probably wouldn't have cared, but today, with his heart hurting as it did, he found the notion… charming. A strange thought entered Byakuya's head. "You don't, perchance, play shogi, do you?"

* * *

"We, ah, don't have to do this," Rukia demurred as Lieutenant Kira led her out to one of the Third Division's training fields. "I'm sure Renji told you what happened."

"If by 'told', you mean Momo and I dragged it out of him, sure," Kira agreed. "I don't see what that has to do with helping you train."

"I just thought…you're his friend…maybe you would have taken his side."

Kira gave an amused snort. "The fact that I'm his friend just means that I know what you're going through. I'm sure your anger is absolutely justified."

"Oh," Rukia replied softly.

Kira looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "His apologies are the worst, to boot." 

"It's because when he feels bad about something he's done, he wants everyone to feel justified in being mad at him, but then forgive him anyway."

Kira laughed. "Exactly."

"Although, to be fair, if you do something to him, all you have to do is apologize for it, and he'll forgive you right away, no explanation necessary."

"This is true, I had never considered that side of it." Kira paused. "I'm not like that."

"No, me either."

Rukia was never sure where she stood with Lieutenant Kira. As students, he had been polite, but cool to her, which was far better than most people treated her. She had always gotten the impression he didn't think she was good enough to be friends with Renji. She honestly wouldn't blame him if he still felt that way after all that had happened, but instead, he seemed to regard her as a co-conspirator, of sorts.

"Do not, for a moment, think that I am making excuses for his sorry self, but he didn't tell you because he didn't want you to think badly of your brother," Kira said off-handedly. 

"What?"

"I know, right?" Kira opened the gate to the training field, and held it for her. "I don't know if you know this, but putting those kinds of restrictions on noble daughters joining the Gotei is pretty common. It's stupid and insulting, but it's done. You can file a protest and get it overridden, but it usually means cutting ties with your family, which I imagine you don't want."

Rukia frowned. She was angry at Brother, sure, but not angry enough to actually leave the family over it. Which was a little strange, because what part of being in the family did she even like? Brother, mostly.

"It's a moot point, it seems like he's sort of given up on it," she tried to explain. "At least he hasn’t actually tried to get me fired, which he threatened to do. I'm still not sure where we stand on the vice-captain issue."

Kira was regarding her strangely. "I hardly know your brother. He yelled at me once, for attempting to give medical attention to Abarai, who was bleeding all over the floor at the time. Not someone I, personally, would be real generous towards, benefit-of-a-doubt-wise, is what I'm saying. But you and Renji know him a lot better than I. Well, in any case, here we are. Renji says I'm supposed to cover the Overall Combat Demo with you?"

"Yeah," Rukia agreed.

"Nice of him to give me the most fun part. It's a timed match, they'll have you fight one of the other vice-captains. The trick here is that you're trying to display your versatility-- that you can switch back and forth between kidou, physical attacks, your special attacks, and so forth. It can be easy to get distracted into just trying to defeat the other person by any means necessary, but this is really an opportunity to show off, the only catch being that you are doing it under live fire."

"Any of the vice-captains? Even you?"

"Could be. Lieutenant Sasakibe doesn't look for volunteers until the last minute, but I would certainly do it if he asked."

"Isn't it cheating, then? If we practice together?"

Kira laughed. "The exam isn't about gatekeeping, it's about making sure people are adequately prepared. And if you're already training with vice-captains, it means you're doing something right. You don't think Renji foisted you off on everyone else to get out of training you personally, did you? Because he would never do that. He loves training people personally. He probably told you he didn't have time, as if that idiot wouldn't just stop sleeping and do all his paperwork in the middle of the night like he always does when he's overloaded." 

"That sneak!"

"Also, it's to your disadvantage as much as mine. I'm looking forward to seeing your ice attacks, actually, I've heard they're really elegant."

"Well," said Rukia, "Let's just see about that." 

* * *

“Ah, Kuchiki!” Captain Ukitake exclaimed as Rukia walked into the office. “I’m glad I caught you.”

Rukia frowned. “Ah, sir, about the other day...”

Ukitake shook his head frantically. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I’m… I’m not mad,” Rukia replied and realized with a small amount of surprise that it was true. Mostly, she just felt sad.

Her captain offered her a sympathetic face. “I do hope you find yourself able to forgive Abarai. He was very concerned about it when he found out, and I’m afraid I encouraged him to--”

“I’m not mad at anyone,” Rukia broke in, a little more firmly.

Ukitake gave a tiny nod. “I understand. Look, Kuchiki, I know you’re very busy training, but I have a little job that I was wondering if you could do for me.”

“What is it?”

“Well, Squad 12 has finally declared Karakura to be back to normal. Back to normal for a _juureichi_ , that is. In any case, Mr. Urahara has asked us to take back certain Gotei-owned assets that he’s been keeping on hand for us since last fall.”

Rukia must have looked confused, because Ukitake clarified, “He said he wants all those gigai out of his storage room, among other things. Anyway, I have an equipment list. If you could just pop over there and make sure everything's accounted for, and then coordinate with Akon over at 12 to bring it back, I would really appreciate it.”

“Uh, sure,” Rukia said slowly. 

“It shouldn’t take long, I would think,” Ukitake said off-handedly. “But I approved you for a 24-hour pass, just in case, so if you want to stop off and visit any old acquaintances--”

“Ichigo can’t see me and I’m not getting back in that gigai,” Rukia replied, a bit too stiffly. She did want to see Ichigo, she would love to see Ichigo, but not now, not over this. He would take her side without question, she was sure, and after getting fired up on righteous rage, would probably immediately try to get his powers back for the lone purpose of telling off Byakuya. She wasn't sure what she needed right now, but that wasn't it (although she appreciated the sentiment). What she needed was someone who would take one look at her and know what she needed. Unfortunately, there weren't many people capable of that, and she wasn't speaking to at least one of them.

“Oh,” Ukitake replied thoughtfully. “Miss Inoue was who I had in mind, actually. But, if you don’t want to go, I’m sure Kiyone would--”

Rukia blinked. Oh. Orihime. _Orihime_. “Uh, it’s fine, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

“Great!” Ukitake beamed. “Tell everyone at the shop I sent my regards!”

* * *

Renji stared at the equipment requisition form in front of him. He’d been staring at it for at least ten minutes. He looked up. Byakuya appeared to still be staring at the same piece of paper _he_ had been staring at ten minutes ago. Renji stared at his requisition form again. He picked up his brush and checked a box.

His spirit phone buzzed and he scrambled for it. 

“Hey,” the text from Rukia read.

“Hey,” he texted back, extremely cognizant of the fact that his captain was staring at him and also how his captain felt about texting.

“Going on a quick mission to LW, low risk, tell Brother I won’t be home until late, maybe tomorrow? Thx.”

“Will do,” he sent back.

Renji stared at his own response for a long minute. Byakuya didn’t carry a spirit phone and Hell Butterflies were such a pain in the ass. Renji was constantly passing around these sorts of messages between the Kuchiki siblings, and in fact, Rukia had even passed one or two back in the other direction on his behalf. This one was probably identical to the fifty such before it, but it felt so spare. So… mad at him. But she _had_ sent it. She could have just sent a Hell Butterfly to the Manor. He decided to press his luck.

“I know you’re still mad at me,” he typed out. “And you already know that I’m sorry. But I want you to know that I miss you. Have a good trip.”

He put his phone back down on the desk. “Sir? Rukia’s off on a Living World mission, says not to wait up. Routine stuff.”

Byakuya nodded, still looking a little shell-shocked. “Ah, thank you, Lieutenant.” He paused. “Have you two…”

Renji glanced back down at his unanswered text. “No.”

“Ah.”

Renji picked up his brush and checked another box.

  
  


~end part 10


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia seeks advice from the worst person in Karakura and also the best person. Renji commits an act of oratorical violence. Some accords are reached.

* * *

* * *

Rukia regarded the pile of listless shinigami slumped in front of her. Ikkaku had fallen over, his head lying in Renji's lap. Yumichika's hair was sticking up on one side. Hitsugaya was sort of crammed under a shelf.

"There's supposed to be an emergency backup power unit for each of these," she noted dryly. "Also, where's mine?"

"Ah, was there?" Urahara frowned. "Gosh, I don't really recall…"

Rukia gave him a subzero glare.

"Jinta, go get Ms. Kuchiki's gigai from the front storage closet, would you? And see if there are any extra battery packs in there. I don't _remember_ there being any, but that's where they'd be." He looked at Rukia. "We kept yours more accessible. In case you happened to visit. Are you sure you want to take it back to Soul Society? I can offer you a very reasonable rate on storage…"

"No need," Rukia replied, keeping her voice businesslike. "Er… is there? There haven't been any signs of his powers…? I mean, you know how he is."

"I haven't seen much of him, actually," Urahara returned lightly.

"Good," Rukia asserted. Perhaps that meant he was keeping out of trouble. Ha! Fat chance of that. "I'm going to be promoted to Lieutenant soon," she announced flippantly. "Which usually means fewer trips over here."

Tessai walked in, Rukia's gigai slung over one shoulder, and a large cardboard box in the other arm. "I wish Abarai would come back to visit. He did windows."

"Mmm, yes!" Urahara pointed his fan at Rukia. "Tell that good-for-nothing friend of yours he owes me money for the destruction of a very valuable piece of field equipment that was issued to him."

"Is that so?" Rukia mused. "Recently?" She really had no reason to intercede on Renji's behalf-- let that dumbass get duped into doing more free labor for all she cared. On the other hand, she was feeling kind of mean, and going up against Urahara seemed fun in a perverse sort of way.

"A month or so ago."

"Ah, well, you'll have to take that up with Squad 2, I certainly don't _remember_ anything about it. Unless you want to give me a very detailed description of what it was and how he destroyed it."

Urahara smirked. "Oh, darn! Omaeda takes _forever_ to process reimbursements. And strictly speaking, _you_ were the one who destroyed it. But I don't like bargaining with you, you're tough."

"Well, you haven't even _started_ to make up for using me as a mobile Hogyoku storage unit," Rukia remarked with half-lidded eyes.

Urahara looked squirmy. Tessai sidled out of the room very discreetly for a person of his size.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get it settled sooner or later," Rukia sighed. "Hey, that reminds me. I'm having a bit of an intrapersonal problem Yoruichi suggested you might have some insight on."

"Is that so," Urahara replied. It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah. Any tips for dealing with a bitchy zanpakutou spirit?"

Urahara laughed suddenly. "I wish! Hmm." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You may find it useful to think about what _kind_ of bitch you have."

"There are kinds?" Rukia asked.

"Oh, yes! Mine is the sort of bitch who gets bored a lot and is super toppy. As long as I keep her entertained and humiliate people constantly, she's reasonably nice to me. If I want her to do something, I have to trick her into doing it in a way that is sufficiently clever that she'll appreciate the craftsmanship. For example, I'm sure Kurosaki told you about the little shortcut to bankai I invented."

Rukia nodded.

"That's because every other method I tried for pulling her out of my inner world ended with her ignoring me for a week and refusing to go to shikai when I needed her." He made a thoughtful little humming sound. "If it's bankai you're after, I'd be happy to let you--"

Rukia realized what he was offering. "No way. I'm pretty sure if I tried a shortcut, my zanpakutou would abandon me entirely. Patience and perseverance is kind of her whole deal."

Urahara shrugged. "Sounds like she's got you over a barrel, then, at least as far as bankai goes." He paused. "We were talking about bankai, weren't we?" There was something in his voice that suggested he knew very well that they were not.

"There's someone else's zanpakutou spirit that she won't get along with," Rukia grumbled.

The look that crossed Urahara's face was mostly smarm, but Rukia thought she caught the tiniest wobble in his smile. "You're asking an awful lot. Very few zanpakutou get along well with others, you know," he pointed out. "Something that can be hard to appreciate is how important we are to them. They’re mean because they are always trying to push us past what we think we are capable of, and they aren't good at expressing themselves, but most zanpakutou love their shinigami more than we are able to comprehend. A lot of them are huge bitches because they are afraid of us putting ourselves at risk for someone else."

"That's dumb," Rukia announced.

Urahara laughed. "People are dumb, no matter what kind of people they are."

Rukia laughed back. "At least you told me one thing today that's the truth."

* * *

Renji looked at the clock on his phone. After what felt like an eternity, it changed from 5:00 to 5:01pm.

Renji slid his badge off his arm and stuck it in his desk drawer, shutting it loudly. Byakuya looked up at the sound.

"It's quittin' time!" Renji announced. "It is now my Leisure Hours!"

"You are certainly welcome to go, Lieutenant," Byakuya murmured, looking back down at his paperwork.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm doin' what I'm about to do on my own time," Renji announced.

Byakuya looked up again, alarmed.

Renji clenched his jaw. "I am going to tell you a story about Inuzuri Rukia."

Byakuya's eyes blazed. "About _whom_?"

"She never liked being called that, so usually I use her current name, but in this case, I feel like it's important. I think sometimes that you forget she was a person before you adopted her, that she popped into existence at just that moment. But Inuzuri Rukia was a girl with thoughts and feelings and friends, a girl worth remembering. Mostly, we just called her Rukia, which you may or may not know is a name she made up herself."

"I knew it was not the name she died under," Byakuya replied coolly. "I recently asked her if she would prefer that I use her real name, but she declined."

Perhaps Byakuya had hoped to rattle him with this, but Renji knew for a fact that Rukia thought "Rukia" was the most beautiful name in the world and would not care to be called anything else. He could never figure out why she hadn't bothered to make up a surname for herself, as well.

“So, I’m sure I’ve told you about how we met, but I’ve probably never mentioned--”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Hmm?”

“You have never told me how you met my sister.”

Renji stared at his captain. “ _Really_?”

“What reason would I have to lie about it? I honestly do not care, your past is of no interest to me. I do wish you would go home and let me work in peace.”

“Yeah, well, you upset my best friend, and got me in trouble with her to boot, so you’re gonna listen to this, unless you’re gonna up and go home yourself.”

Byakuya glared at his lieutenant, but did not make a motion to move.

Renji cleared his throat. “Well, some background then, since you’re apparently the only person in Soul Society who hasn’t been subjected to this story. Your sister saved my life in the very first minute that I met her. Me and my boys had lifted some water jars, you see, from an old guy who had stolen them himself and was reselling them at an absolutely inhumane mark-up.”

“What?” Byakuya asked vaguely.

“We’re running for our lives, this guy’s chasing us, swinging this huge sickle, my life’s passing before my eyes, to say nothing of poor Fujimaru, who’s bringing up the rear.”

“Who?”

“Then outta nowhere comes this human tornado, trips the geezer and he goes face down in the dust. She stomps on his head and knocks out the two teeth he had left. Then, your sis screams at us to get a move on, ‘cause we’re all standing there with our jaws hanging down around our knees.”

“Wait, what were you doing?”

“Stealing water, weren’t you listening?”

“Why?”

“To drink?”

Byakuya stared at him for a long moment. “And why did Rukia intercede on your behalf?”

“That," Renji intoned, "is a great mystery. I've asked, but she's never given me a straight answer. We did share the water with her, naturally, but I want to emphasize that I did not consider myself friends with her at this time.”

Byakuya continued to stare at him. “Please stop.”

“I will not. Now, it was getting on into fall, when you gotta be figuring out your winter accommodations. The boys and I had secured spots in a large flop. There’s a lot of strategy in this, y’see, the more kids there are in a flop, the warmer it’s gonna be, but also you gotta fight for your place and watch your back more. There were four of us, and we could watch out for each other well enough. I had a suspicion that Rukia wanted into our group, but I wasn’t having it. A girl’s a million times more trouble to watch out for in a place like that, and I wasn’t about to put my guys at risk for some newcomer. I was the only one with any spiritual pressure, y’see, so, I kinda saw it as my responsibility to look out for the others, although to be honest, at the time, I wasn’t much tougher than they were.”

Byakuya was very slowly shaking his head from side to side.

“The guys were all in love with her instantly, though,” Renji explained. “Thought the sun shined out her rear. And she kept showing up. I mean, there were only four of us, so of course I let her play on our football squad, we needed a striker, what was I s’posed to do? Man, she was a great pickpocket, too. All right, to be honest, she showed us up at everything, I don’t even know why she bothered with us, aside from like I said, I suspected she needed a place to crash and someone to watch her back while she slept.

“So, one day, she pulls me aside, and says-- she had a very unflattering nickname that she used for me at the time, I am not going to repeat it, so we’ll just say, she says, ‘Renji--’”

“Why would you even bring that up? There was no need to include that detail.”

“It’s was ‘Gramps’, actually, she used to call me ‘Gramps’ because she said I complained like an old guy. So, she says, ‘Gramps, we gotta talk,’ and I’m sure she’s gonna ask about bunking with us, and I’m ready to say no, and she says, ‘You cannot stay in that shithouse flop,’ pardon my language, sir. ‘You’re gonna get your ass beat six ways to Sunday every week and they’re gonna steal your stuff.’ So then she tells me she’s found a squat out on the outskirts of town, and it’s very comfortable, just her out there, but she’s gotten fond of my boys and she wanted to invite them to come out and live with her, _because she could protect them better’n me_.” Renji paused for effect.

“What is the difference between a flop and a squat?” Byakuya asked.

Renji blinked. “Hmm?”

“You have used both terms and I am afraid I do not understand the distinction. Or for that matter, what either one is, aside from a dwelling of some sort.”

“Oh. Well, a flop is a house where a bunch of people live. Usually, there’s a boss of the flop, who takes a cut from the other folks who stay there, and there’s sort of a complicated social hierarchy. A squat’s an abandoned place that you take for yourself.”

“I see. Thank you.”

It took Renji a moment to remember where he had left off. “Right. So, Rukia’s squat, it was pretty bad. Real run-down, nearly out in the forest. The boys loved this idea, of course, there was no talking them out of it, and--”

“You said she approached you first. Was the decision not yours to make? Why even tell the others?”

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Yeah. I mean… she was right, staying in a flop is a rough life.” His brows furrowed. “Living on your own is dangerous as hell, though. To be honest, I do not remember how she talked me into it. You know Rukia, though, so I’m sure she’s talked you into something you don’t remember agreeing to at some point.”

Byakuya set his mouth in a hard line.

“And believe me, when we got there, I was second-guessing just immediately. We spent the next month or so doing our best to fix this place up, at least get the walls shored up and all the air gaps blocked. We were going out in the woods a lot, to get sticks and stuff, and the thing is, Rukia’s got these traps set up _everywhere_ , and she won’t tell us where they are or how to disarm them. I’ll just be walking around the woods and _whammo_ , this rope tightens around my ankle and I’m hanging upside-down in a tree and Rukia has to come and get me down.”

Byakuya cocked an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t just me, it was all of us,” Renji clarified. “The other thing is, she would go out on… like a patrol. Once, first thing in the morning, and once around dusk. Doesn’t tell us what she’s looking for, won’t let us come with. Personally, I think she might be nuts. Until one day, it was the first snowfall of the year, I remember that. It’s dusk and she’s out later than usual. We’re wondering if one of us should go out looking for her. I sure as hell don’t want it to be me. I don’t wanna be out in those cold woods with either whatever this thing is she’s afraid of, or worse, a crazy woman who’s lured us all out to the woods to kill us. Not to mention the traps. And then--”

Renji slammed his hand down on his desk. Despite himself, Byakuya jumped.

“The door slams open and in she comes, shaking snow out of her hair, this nasty, stinky pile of fur over her shoulder and she _throws_ it on the ground in the middle of the squat, brushes off her hands and says, ‘I finally got this bastard.’” He waited.

“What was it?” Byakuya finally grumbled.

“So, up around here, people think badgers are real cute and roly-poly or whatever, but the ones we get in Inuzuri are about twice as big and mean as all get out and they don’t hibernate, and this guy was the most disgusting old asshole of a badger I had ever seen. He had one eye and maybe half an ear and all his teeth were broke and he smelled like death itself. Now, Rukia ain’t too big now, and you gotta remember, she was a kid at the time, this thing was probably two-thirds the size of her. ‘Good news, boys,’ she says, ‘we can all sleep easy now,’ and then goes over, flops down on her blanket and goes _right to sleep_.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“And then what?” Byakuya asked.

“That was basically it. That was the story. Rukia wanted to make, like, a cloak out of its fur and wander around intimidating the wildlife, but it smelled too bad, I wouldn’t let her.”

“What… what was the _point_? Why did you tell me any of that? That was _horrifying_.”

Renji stood up and leaned forward on his desk. “You know what I find horrifying? That you would tell a girl like that she needs any kind of protectin’. I’m goin’ home now. See you tomorrow, sir.”

“Please never, ever do that again!” Byakuya called as Renji made his way out the door.

Renji just waved absently as he departed.

Byakuya stared at the door for a moment, and then down at the form he had been approving. Then back at the door again. “ _What just happened_?”

* * *

Rukia felt very, very stupid.

She gritted her teeth together, and rapped quickly on the apartment door.

Orihime probably wasn’t even home. She was probably off doing something fun. Or maybe she had an After School Job now, the kids had talked about those an awful lot. Or maybe she was home, but had a lot of homework. Orihime probably wouldn’t even want to see her. Who would want to see some awful ghost who had ruined her summer vacation and almost got her and all her friends killed a hundred times over? Rukia twisted her hands together. She should just go.

The door swished open, and a pair of enormous grey eyes blinked at her. “ _RUKIA!”_ Orihime squealed, hugging Rukia around the torso and lifting her up off her feet.

“Hi,” Rukia managed, as she was swung around in circles.

Orihime set her down again and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Rukia, you came to see me! I am so happy! I love your new haircut! Oh no! Is something wrong! Is Ichigo in trouble?” She clenched her hands into fists. “Do we need to go rescue him? I have been training for this moment!”

Rukia held up her hands. “Orihime! Orihime, calm down! Everything’s fine, I was just… in town and I thought I would stop by!”

Orihime’s fierce scowl turned cheerful again. “Oh, I’m so glad! Come on in, then!”

“I… hope I’m not bothering you,” Rukia managed lamely. 

“Oh, gosh, no. Do you want me to call the boys and see if they can come over? I mean, Ichigo can’t see you, but I could describe what you're doing for him.”

“Uh… actually I just kinda wanted to see you,” Rukia admitted. “And I would actually sort of appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone that I’d stopped by.”

Orihime’s eyes went wide. “Sure. Sure, no problem.” She frowned. “Rukia, are you sure everything’s all right? You don’t really look all right.”

“I’m not,” Rukia admitted, feeling a weight press down on her heart. 

“That’s not a rock-bottom haircut, is it? It’s way too cute to be rock-bottom haircut.”

“No, no, I got that… I don’t remember when I got that, actually.”

“Come in and sit down,” Orihime commanded. “I would make you tea, but you can’t have any, right? It would just fall through and get on the floor?”

“Uhhhh,” Rukia hedged. “I think so?”

“How about I make me some tea? Would that be half as good?”

“Sure,” Rukia agreed. 

“You just got back from a long mission, right?” Orihime asked as she puttered around the kitchen. “With Renji?”

Rukia frowned at her. “How did you know about that?”

Orihime regarded her strangely. “Yoruichi told us. She said you two were probably lonely, so we all gave her New Year’s cards to give to both of you.” She frowned sadly. “You didn’t get them?”

Rukia couldn’t keep the surprise off her face. “Well… well, what happened was, they wiped our memories when we got back. So we probably did get them, I just don’t remember it.” A stack of cards, one in a white envelope. Flipping through them over and over, pausing on the envelope every time. Her heart filling up with love and gratitude for her amazing, thoughtful friends and her stiff, formal bro--

“Oh nooooo!” Orihime wailed. “That’s terrible!”

“It wasn’t so bad!” Rukia tried to console her. “Everyone said it was a very boring mission, not even worth remembering.”

Orihime sniffed as she poured water from her electric kettle into a mug. “Renji’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Well… yes, I suppose,” Rukia waffled.

“I would be very angry if anyone erased _any_ of my memories of Renji, and he's not even my best friend!" Orihime announced. "Even that time we were playing football and I made that really good shot and he blocked it with his _unfair tallness_. I would be mad if someone erased my memories of you or Renji or any of my friends. Good or bad or boring or whatever. You never know when you’re not going to see someone ever again, and the memories you have are all you’re going to get. I’m sure you and Renji did a lot of fun things when you weren’t busy busting Hollows, and it's not fair that you don't get to remember any of it. Do you want me to see if I can reject your memory loss?”

Rukia stared at Orihime, slightly horrified. For starters, everyone she knew had just accepted that getting your memories 86’d was normal and fine, just part of the job. No, not quite everyone. Yoruichi had apologized to them, angrily and awkwardly. Yoruichi, who had actually seen them during those strange missing days. Suddenly, Rukia felt horribly cheated. She had already missed out on forty long years of being obnoxious dickheads with Renji, and those _jerks_ , those absolute _assholes_ \--

“Have you ever rejected a memory wipe before?” she asked hesitantly.

“We-ellll,” Orihime frowned. “You memory-wiped me once and I shook it off? That was before I even had my Rikka.”

That’s right, she had. Rukia opened her mouth and closed it again. A cold fear coiled in her stomach. She had thought she wanted those memories back, but she had frozen up once it became an actual possibility, Why? Maybe there was something in those memories that her subconscious wasn’t sure she wanted to see. But--

“I probably shouldn’t,” Orihime concluded suddenly. “I mean, it’s not like a broken arm, it’s your _memories_. What if I rejected some of your real memories instead? I mean, if you really wanted me to, I would try, but I would feel terrible if--”

“It’s okay,” Rukia interrupted her. “Thank you for the offer. But that’s… that’s not what I was upset about anyway.”

Orihime plunked a teabag into her cup. “Oh. Well, do you want to talk about it?”

They headed back to the living room to sit around Orihime’s table. Rukia thought about all the times they’d sat around this table before, the two of them, or sometimes the three of them, or sometimes the five of them. Had it ever been the six of them, here? No, it wasn’t really the six of them until Hueco Mundo, although now it seemed strange to think about them any other way. Stupid Renji, always just _fitting in_ to groups as though he had been there the whole time.

“Well,” Rukia frowned, trying to think of how to start. “So I’ve been in Squad 13 for…” she tried to do the math. “Close to forty-four years now. And it’s not terribly unusual to spend an entire career in the Gotei-13 without being seated, but--”

“You don’t have a seat?” Orihime interrupted.

“No. But--”

“There are ten seats?”

“Twenty. Well, eighteen, then vice-captain, then captain.”

“Got it.” Orihime tapped her chin. “No, that still doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Well, when we went to Soul Society the first time, to rescue you, Uryuu and I fought the Fourth Seat of the Seventh. We were just little babies then, and I didn’t do very well, but Uryuu pounded him.”

Where was Orihime going with this?

“When I was in Hueco Mundo, I spent a lot of time listening for your reiatsu. Renji’s a lieutenant, but he must be one of the strongest lieutenants, right?”

“I guess?”

“Because when we got attacked by Grimmjow back in the World of the Living after everyone got _gentei kaijou_ , I noticed that Renji was a lot closer to Captain Hitsugaya than Rangiku was to Renji, powers-wise, but he has bankai, so that must count for something. You were getting a lot stronger that whole time, and even more so after you did all that training with me and with your brother, after we went back to Soul Society.”

Rukia was getting confused.

“But I am quite sure you were closer to Renji’s power level in Hueco Mundo than Rangiku was. And she’s a lieutenant. And that Fourth Seat was nothing at all like any of you! Is the Thirteenth extra strong? The Eleventh is extra strong, I think Madarame is about as strong as Renji, even though he’s only a Third Seat, and Ayesegawa seems about as strong as Rangiku, and he’s, what, Fifth? Why don’t you have a seat? That seems very silly.”

Rukia just stared at her friend. She felt like an idiot. Did everyone know except for her? She scowled. “I don’t have a seat because my stupid brother made my captain promise not to give me one. Which I just found out two days ago.”

Orihime’s mouth opened into a silent ‘o’ and then closed again.

“And the worst part,” Rukia said, her voice going quiet. “Is that asshole Renji _knew_ and he didn’t tell me.”

A look of deep sadness came over Orihime’s face. “Oh, Rukia…”

Rukia traced a pattern on the table with one finger. She didn’t know what else to say.

Orihime slammed one fist on the table, sloshing her tea. “I wish you could send regular texts to spirit phones!”

Rukia looked up, raising her eyebrows. “Come again?”

“After Mr. Urahara told me I couldn’t fight against the Arrancar-- after Renji said it was better for me to sit it out-- you sent him, like, seventeen nasty text messages in a row, do you remember that?”

Rukia gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah, I do remember that.”

Orihime’s eyebrows curved in sympathy. “I was so sad and I felt so bad about myself, and you sat there getting madder and madder and coming up with worse and worse names for him, it made me feel a lot better.”

Rukia snorted. “Really?”

“Really.” Orihime chewed her lip. "That doesn't make sense either, though. Renji tells people how strong you are all the time. I've never seen him try to make you stay out of a fight. He lets you ride on his bankai even though you said you weren't allowed to-- it was your brother who said you weren't allowed to ride on Renji's bankai, wasn't it?"

Rukia wrinkled her nose. It occurred to her that pretty much immediately after she got her powers back, Renji had wanted to start sparring at full-strength-- _his_ full-strength. He habitually started sentences with 'when you're a vice-captain' and was always trying to get her to hang out with the other lieutenants. That jerk thought he could just train me past it, she realized with a hitch in her heart. That if I passed the exam, Byakuya couldn't do anything about it. Renji didn’t want to upset me, so he didn't tell me what Brother had done. Instead, he just tried to _fix it,_ the dope.

"Renji didn't _agree_ with it, he just knew and didn't tell me," Rukia admitted. "And it's easier to be mad at Renji than Brother because I have a lot of practice in it and he _used_ _to_ be very satisfying to be mad at. Now, he does _this_."

She pulled out her phone, brought up that pathetic text he'd sent her earlier, and slid it across the table.

Orihime read it silently, and then her eyes filled with shiny tears. "Oh, Rukia, you didn't even _reply_!"

Rukia flapped a hand. "There's no need to get emotional over it, this is Renji we're talking about. Think of The Brows."

"I like his Brows, actually," Orihime proclaimed. "This really is like last time, you know, when you spent all that time yelling at him when it was really Mr. Urahara who said I couldn't fight. I think Renji just said what he did to keep Chad from punching Mr. Urahara."

"Well, what's the point in getting mad at Urahara? The man's impenetrable to criticism," Rukia sniffed.

Orihime played with her mug. "Well, what about your brother?"

"Likewise," Rukia sniffed. "He's never had a feeling in his life and he probably doesn't think I have either." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true, either half of it. He'd helped her get to Hueco Mundo to save Orihime. He'd helped her do it in a _smart_ way, in fact, warning her that following her emotions would get her caught. And the next time she'd seen him after that, hovering over her with that awful look in his eyes, refusing to be healed until her own wounds were closed.

"He seems hard to get to know," Orihime was saying. "You're kinda hard to get to know, too, y'know. You're both like a vegetable that's really yummy, except that the yummy part is underground and you have to recognize the leaves to even know it's there. Like a carrot. Or a daikon."

Rukia froze. Oh, _fuck_.

"I think your brother is a lot like mine was," Orihime said suddenly. "He used to make me so mad, and I felt like he didn't care about me, either. I-- I was talking to Ichigo about this not too long ago. Ichigo has a lot of opinions on brothering."

"Oh, I know," Rukia concurred. She was well versed in Ichigo's strong opinions on brothering. 

"Ichigo says," Orihime began slowly, "that brothers protect their younger siblings so that they can live their best lives and be whoever they want to be without fear. But that when things get hard, there's an urge to just lock them away." Orihime played with a strand of hair. "Now that I'm older, I can appreciate all that Sora was dealing with. I know he was doing his best in an unfair situation. But if he were here, I would say, Sora, I have magical fairy powers now, so _bug off_!"

"That's kinda how this all started," Rukia admitted.

Orihime nodded. "And then Ichigo said, 'I'm real glad you're not _my_ sister, Inoue.'"

"Did he?" Rukia replied mildly.

"Your brother doesn't have a whole lot of experience being a brother, does he?" Orihime asked. "And to be fair, you've not exactly a low difficulty sister, either, especially after the last year."

"Hmmph," Rukia hmmphed. "He pulled this seat nonsense 50 years ago, though!" 44 to be exact. One single year after the death of his beloved wife, her sister, who looked just like her.

"I'm not telling you to give him a pass," Orihime clarified. "But maybe you could...I dunno. Try to talk things out. Tell him how you feel and see what he says. I would give anything if I could have a chance to talk things out with my brother."

Rukia sighed. "I will give it a shot, but only for you."

Orihime beamed and finished her tea in one swig. "Can I text Renji on your phone?"

"What? Why? I mean...I guess. Tell him it’s you, though."

"I will!" She snatched up Rukia's phone. "'Abarai Renji, this is Inoue Orihime, texting from Rukia's phone,' she dictated as she typed. "'I hear you are a giant butt.'" She paused thoughtfully. "'Just huge.'" She thought again. "'I forgive you, but please try to do better in the future.'" She fiddled with the phone for a minute. "Oh, no. Oh, no, I think I've killed him." She thrust the phone back at Rukia.

Renji, who had probably never gone more than a minute before replying to one of Rukia's texts, had responded with [grave] [skull] [ghost].

"RIP, Lieutenant of the Sixth Division," Rukia shrugged.

"Oh, no, was I too harsh?" Orihime's face was a rictus of horror.

"You just don't know your own strength," Rukia waved off. "But you know Renji. He'll get a second wind." Rukia regarded her sad marshmallow of a friend over the top of her phone, and then looked down at the text from her other sad marshmallow of a friend back in Soul Society. Sigh. Who could hold a grudge after staring into the puppy-dog eyes of these two?

"It's [snowflake] [Chappy] again," she typed. "Let's talk when I get back."

"Ok!!!!" he sent back immediately.

Rukia frowned at her phone for a moment, and then, very quickly typed back, "i miss u too", hit send, and snapped her phone shut. "Renji owes you a dessert next time you're in Soul Society. Don't let him welch on you."

Orihime beamed.

Rukia sniffed. "I'm tired of talking about dumb boys. What has been going on in Magical Gothic Space Vampire Romance? I've missed, what, four issues? Five?"

Orihime slammed her hands palm-down on the table. " _And_ the Christmas Double-Sized special! Let! Me! Tell! You! Everything!"

* * *

It was late, far past the time when he usually retired, but Byakuya sat at his desk. He was ready for bed, his hair down, dressed in a dark sleeping kimono, but he couldn’t sleep, once again. He stared down at the desk in front of him. A neat stack of blank paper. A clean brush. He wondered if he had lost his sister. He had almost lost his wife once, before she was his wife, but he had managed to salvage it. He wasn’t sure if he could salvage this.

_He was waiting at the gate, the night she tried to leave._

_"You told me you'd give me a year," he said quietly._

_"Close enough," she snarled, refusing to meet his eye._

_"Why are you doing this? Leaving in the middle of the night, like some kind of thief? Did you think I would break my promise? Did you think I wouldn't let you go, if that's what you decided?"_

_She wheeled on him, eyes flashing. "I'm trash, Byakuya, everyone knows it but you. I'm not a fit wife for you, but you never listen--"_

_"Who are you to say what's best for me, especially if you are, as you say, trash?"_

_She usually made fun of him when he got imperious on her, but there was no teasing in her tonight. "I can't give you children, which is all anyone around here seems to care about. I'm dying, Byakuya. I've got a few years, maybe. Why even bother?"_

_"Because if all you have is a few years, then I don't want to miss any of it. Because I want to fill every day you have left with flowers and peace and my love for you. Do you think I didn't know? Do you think my grandfather and a million other people haven't made this same argument to me?"_

_"Here's a new one for you, then," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'm a monster. Did you know? It breaks my heart for you to know this about me, but if that's what it will take…" She took a deep breath. "I told you once that I took the Shin'ou entrance exams. That I gave something up to do it. Well, here it is: I had a sister. We died together, came to Inuzuri together. She was a baby. Helpless. A burden. So I left her behind." She stared at him, challenging him to respond. Byakuya remained silent, and Hisana went on. "I could have looked for her, when I came back, after I failed. But I didn't. I went out to the Wastes instead. I told myself that I had nothing to offer her. That I needed to hit it big, get out of there, and then I would find her and take her away from that shitty town. What a lie! What a pile of bullshit! How can I be here with you and--"_

_"We’ll find her," Byakuya said. "Bring her here. I'll treat her as my own sister."_

_Her face crumpled. She wanted him to hate her and he couldn’t. He refused. "Byakuya…."_

_He clenched his fists. "You were given a bad lot. You did what you had to. My family has done worse things. All you can do is try to make it right. If you leave, what can you give her? If you stay-- stay with me-- I'll take care of her, give her everything. Even after… after you're ..." He couldn’t say it._

_"She might be dead. It's nearly impossible to find people in Rukongai. I don't know how much she's grown, what she looks like. I don't even know what name she uses."_

_Byakuya was silent. His heart was breaking. He was losing her, he knew it._

_"Why are you like this?" Hisana suddenly screamed. "You promised you were an asshole!"_

_And then he grabbed her in his arms and held onto the woman he loved as tightly as he could._

Byakuya rubbed his hands over his eyes. Somewhere along the line, Hisana had fallen in love with him. He didn’t know why. He certainly hadn’t deserved it. But she had and she had stayed, and he wouldn’t trade the five years that followed for anything.

Life with Rukia was not like life with Hisana, but it had hints of it. And in his fear of losing those little scraps, he had insulted her and chased her away. It was easy to justify his actions in the light of day, but alone at night, the truth loomed too heavy to ignore.

There was a soft tap at the door. "Brother, it's me, I'm home," Rukia’s voice came through the door. Byakuya stiffened. 

"May I come in?"

Byakuya struggled to find his tongue. “Yes. Come in.”

"Apologies for bothering you so late," Rukia said quietly, as she entered. She was still dressed in her uniform. “I was hoping we could talk."

Byakuya stared at her blankly. "Are you sure you wish to? This is not an hour conducive to patience and cool tempers."

“Good,” Rukia replied, settling herself on the other side of his desk. “You and I get along fine when we keep our real selves buried under the earth, with only our patience and cool tempers sticking up above ground, like daikon greens. We might make up if we talked about this in the morning, but it wouldn’t solve anything.” She gave him a little smile.

Byakuya was dumbfounded. At the time, he hadn't been sure if she had understood his poem, let alone the fact that it was not just a poem about her, but about the part of himself he saw reflected in her.

"Brother, why did you adopt me?" Rukia asked bluntly.

The answer came to his lips unbidden. "Because I promised your sister I would." 

Rukia nodded curtly. "The fact is, at the time you found me, I was at a bit of a crossroads. I had always been proud of living my own life, of taking care of myself. Of not being a burden. I was good at that in Inuzuri. I was not good at being a student. I think if I had stayed at Shin'ou longer, I would have figured things out, found my footing. But at the time, I was worried about becoming a burden to...to someone. And it seemed like you wanted me and you had so much, surely I would be less of a burden to you than to that other person. After I got here, though, it seemed like maybe you didn't want me here after all, so I tried really hard to make myself small and not be too troublesome to you.

"Ichigo reminded me that I'm not small and I _am_ troublesome, and I remembered what it was like to be proud of myself. I'm grateful for all you've done for me, Brother, but I don't need you to take care of me. I've stayed here because I like you and I like living with you, but if I'm a bother to you, I'll release you from your promise and we can part ways." Rukia fell quiet, regarding him with dark, serious eyes.

"Absolute nonsense," Byakuya grumbled, despite the tight knot in his chest. "I have named you a Kuchiki and that is what you are now. It is not something that can be cast off like a cloak that has gotten stuck in a bramble. You do not need to make yourself small, but you must learn to wear your strength with pride and dignity." He sighed. "That was something I struggled with myself when I was your age."

Rukia scowled. "How am I supposed to do that when you won't trust me to do my job?"

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut. He thought about Ukitake, Abarai, Shihouin, Hitsugaya, even his own Fourth Seat, one after another telling him how strong and brave and fierce his sister was, and he stubbornly shut his ears to all of them. The Captain-Commander himself had ordered her to take the exam. Why couldn't he let himself accept it? “I...I meant well. You were very young.”

“You could have changed your mind at any time. Captain Ukitake said he asked you to.” Rukia gritted her teeth. “We could have _talked about it_.”

Byakuya winced. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, but he knew he had to say it. “I have done poorly by you. I am sorry.”

A huge breath poured out of Rukia. “Well, I’m glad you’re sorry, but I think you owe me more than that. I’ve been training so hard, and it just… it really hurt, okay? That you think so little of me. I thought we were doing better, Byakuya! I thought you liked me!”

She had called him by his name. She had called him by his given name in Hisana’s beautiful voice. “I do like you,” he murmured. “I like you very much.” Then, “You make me miss your sister," fell from his lips before he could stop it.

There was a long silence. Rukia’s eyes were wide. "I'm not her," Rukia said, very softly.

Byakuya shook his head. "You don't understand. I… it is of no matter. It is personal."

Rukia stared at him. "It is _not_ of no matter. I can tell you're upset about it, and you haven't been sleeping and you should really talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me, although I'd be happy to listen. I don't like talking about feelings either, but something's eating you up, and you need to let it out." She was silent for a moment. "Usually, I talk to Renji, he's a really good listener, y'know--"

"I cannot think of anything more inappropriate than a captain sharing a personal problem with his lieutenant!" Byakuya scolded.

Rukia made a face that indicated she could think of plenty of things more inappropriate than that.

But who could he possibly talk to about this matter? Captain Ukitake, or perhaps Unohana. He could not stand the idea of their patronizing faces, though, telling him he had not grieved enough in the first place, as if they had not made their opinions clear enough at the time. He looked across his desk at his sister, his fellow daikon, and realized that there was more to being siblings than the elder protecting the younger and teaching her a few sword tricks.

"I mourned Hisana when she passed," he said suddenly. "And although I still miss her greatly, I was able to move on with my life. Until… until you were sent away." He clenched his back teeth. "I missed you. I thought about you every day and wished you were home. And ever since you returned-- it should have fixed everything, but instead, I find myself thinking of your sister constantly. It is like poking at a bruise, immensely painful, but I cannot stop." 

Rukia nodded. "I know what you're feeling, at least a little bit."

Byakuya bristled. How could she possibly--

"I'm not gonna pretend I ever got over Lieutenant Shiba's death," she said quietly. "But I got past it. I survived it. Y'know, I didn't even realize Ichigo looked like him, at first." 

She fell silent for a moment, and Byakuya realized with horror that she _did_ know how he felt.

"I was so scared he was going to die-- that it would be Kaien's death all over again, and I was willing to go to my own death to keep that from happening. But Ichigo _isn't_ Kaien. He's a moron, for one, who wouldn't know a sensible course of action if it bit him on the butt. And he doesn't care about honor or duty, he cares about _people_. He's not going to die the way Kaien did, and when he does die, it's going to be his own damn fault, for sure, not mine. And I think if you'd let yourself get to know me a little more-- the real me, not the me you want me to be in your head-- you'd realize I'm my own moron who's going to die of my own damn foolishness, too, no matter what you do."

"You are truly the most maddening person in all of Soul Society," Byakuya informed her. "You have lived in my house for forty years, without revealing the tiniest piece of yourself, and now you demand that I 'get to know you' as though I have nothing better to do with my time and energy." Under his breath he mumbled, "You might as well have dumped a dead badger into my parlor."

Rukia caught it, though, and her face went stiff. "He always tells it wrong!" she defended angrily. "It was a _tanuki_. I don't know what kind of idiot can't tell the difference between a tanuki and a badger, but--"

"Nevertheless," Byakuya interrupted calmly, "I think I have never met anyone who understands me so well."

Rukia fell silent, her cheeks flushing pink.

"We are difficult people, both of us," Byakuya continued. "But it would be a great loss to me if you were to leave, so I think we must find a way to live together. I will try to get to know you, Rukia, with an open mind. You may need to be patient with me."

"And I will try to act with pride and dignity," Rukia agreed solemnly. "In public."

"And I shall keep my hand out of your career," Byakuya sighed, a bit of resignation in his voice. "Unless, of course, you wish me to--"

"I don't," Rukia cut him off, with a smile.

* * *

Rukia didn't think it was wise to be running around the Sixth before work hours, but Renji agreed to meet her over at the Thirteenth instead. He was sitting on the edge of Ugendou Pond when she got there, in the place that had a lot of flat stones for skipping.

"Mornin'," she said, plopping down beside her.

"Mornin'," he returned, handing her a bento. 

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled. It looked like he had brought one for himself, too.

"Did you eat before you came over here?"

"Well, no."

"You shouldn't skip breakfast, 'specially not when you're training. Hopefully it survived the trip over here."

Her curiosity piqued, Rukia slid open the lid. "You made me egg rice!" she gasped.

"I got some weird half memory that this stuff was your favorite. I didn't want to have to bring the hot sauce, so I just dumped some on there for you, sorry if--"

"You made me EGG. RICE," Rukia repeated. Then she grabbed his chin between her thumb and her fingers, hauled his face down to her level, and planted a big wet one on his cheek. "Thank you."

Renji sputtered wordlessly for a moment while Rukia shoveled egg into her face. "I have been craving this stuff for _weeks_. I asked Brother if we could have it and he said it was 'peasant food.'"

"Anytime," Renji said softly. Does, uh, does this mean you're talking to me again? Even though I'm, y'know. A giant butt."

Rukia snorted. "You've always been a giant butt, that's not news." She sighed. "Short answer, yes, I forgive you. I… I probably overreacted. A smidge."

Reni frowned at his breakfast. "I wouldn't say that."

Rukia took a deep breath. "Renji, I really like that you're my brother's second."

He looked up, eyebrows furrowed quizzically.

"I don't have to worry about either one of you because I know that you're looking out for each other. And you're good at a lot of the people stuff he sucks at. And I still don't know why you think you need to surpass him, but for whatever reason, you've gotten better for it. Not just stronger. You've picked up a lot from him. You think about things in a different way. You're more…. leadery. Anyway, the downside is that sometimes... _this_ is gonna happen." She took a bite of egg and sighed contentedly. "The fact is, since last fall, you've been really good at this friendship thing. Just knocking it out of the park. And when it felt like you didn't have my back on this, it just felt like… I just…."

"Hey."

Rukia looked up at her friend, her face unsure.

"Even when we disagree on stuff, I will _always_ have your back, okay?"

Rukia nodded.

"And for the record, I had your back on this one, too. I...I didn't want you to be mad at your brother. Which is stupid, because he was completely wrong. _I_ was mad at your brother. _I_ was furious about it. But he'd done it so long ago, and you seemed so happy and… I just..."

"I know," Rukia reassured him. "He and I had a talk last night, by the way, and he is also tentatively forgiven."

"Oh,"said Renji sounding surprised. "Good."

"'Good'?" Rukia echoed. She certainly hadn't expected _that_.

"Ru, the two of us have been moping around the office for days, it's pathetic. It's real bad."

Rukia laughed and ate some more of her breakfast. "You big dummies."

Renji looked down at her fondly. "Are we done being schmoopy now? Speaking of people who are giant butts, I wanna hear how it went with Kira."

"Aw, cripes! You told me what his zanpakutou does, I thought I was ready for it, and it was _horrible_. How do you beat that guy?"

"Very quickly, or else just run away."

"Real robust strategy there."

"Usually I can manage to beat him right away. One time I couldn't, so I went to bankai, let Zabimaru fall apart and just threw the segments at him, one at a time."

"I bet he loved that." 

"He hated it actually, especially after I started re-throwing the ones he'd already doubled back at him. I think we both ended up with concussions, is how that ended." Renji chewed some egg contemplatively. "So lemme guess… you dropped your sword, pretended he had you, and then used your ice rope connection to…." he thought for a moment, "I bet you snowed him under. You would have used Tsukishirou if you were serious, but Hakuren was funnier." Renji tried to make an avalanche noise.

"Your sound effects are terrible, otherwise, you know me disgustingly well. _Except_ that he had mentioned earlier that there was a possibility I might end up fighting him in my actual exam, so I decided it might be better to yield and keep the ol' ice rope connection in my back pocket."

Renji laughed, long and loud. "Oh, Ru, you're going to kill us all in our sleep one of these days."

Rukia gazed thoughtfully off into the middle distance. "I swear, I will hit him with a point-blank Hakuren someday. Think about what it would do to his hair."

Renji tried to take a deep, calming breath through his nose, but just started laughing again. 

Rukia turned back to him. "Speaking of bad hair, I am doing zanjutsu today with your boy Iba. Got any tips?"

Renji rubbed his hands together. "Oh, _do_ I!"

~end part 11


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia deals with her personnel problems head-on. Byakuya and Renji exchange favors. Yumichika spills tea on a number of topics. Everyone dresses up to celebrate two adorable idiots admitting their feelings for each other. It's probably not the ones you were hoping for.

* * *

* * *

“All present and accounted for,” Akon announced, dumping a large cardboard box into Rukia’s arms. 

“What the hell is this?” Rukia grumbled.

“We’re finished decommissioning those gigai you dropped off a few weeks ago,” Akon explained.

“Decommissioned?” Rukia asked, slightly aghast.

“Technology moves on, Kuchiki,” Akon announced proudly. ”Those old buckets were totally obsolete. “If you have to go back to the World of the Living, I’ll hook you up with a sweet new rig, you’ll love it.”

The corner of Rukia’s mouth quirked up. “Cool. Thanks, man.” Suddenly, her smile dropped. “What is in this box? Do I want to know what is in this box?”

“It’s clothes,” Akon replied, and Rukia breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “You don’t mind giving them back to the right people, do you? I don’t know whose is whose and I can’t ever get people to come by here anyway. Although tell whoever has the giant pair of feet that they’re lucky, I almost stole that bitchin’ pair of engineer boots, but they didn't fit.”

“Those are Renji’s,” Rukia grinned. “You could really work 'em, though. I feel like they could be more practical than waraji for Squad 12 work. I can’t imagine what kind of horrible things there are to step in around here.”

To Rukia’s surprise, Akon chuckled. “You got that right.” He scratched his head. “Not to be nosy or anything, scientific interest only, but how’s, uh, you and Abarai’s thing? The last time we talked, you thought it might be your zanpakutou? Is there anything I can--?”

Rukia held up a hand. “The fact is… we’ll figure it out. Eventually. We're not in a hurry. Maybe it is my zanpakutou. Maybe it’s his. Maybe it’s something else entirely. To be honest, I can’t even figure out my everyday, non-reiatsu-based relationship with Renji and I’m not sure I’m ready to. But we know we can count on each other when shit gets real, and we’ll figure the rest out along the way.”

“You would make a terrible scientist, Kuchiki,” Akon informed her. 

“I know,” she replied. “Good thing I have you, for that, right?”

“Yeah, sure!” Akon blustered. “You got my number, if you ever change your mind and want a reiatsu reading or something, just shoot me a--”

“We’re having a little get-together this weekend, actually,” Rukia interrupted. “A celebration for some mutual friends. You wanna come along? We’re getting hot pot in-- get this-- the non-shinigami part of town. No shihakushou allowed.”

Akon rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw, I don’t know about that, no one there is gonna know who I am.”

“You know me and Renji. And Rin is coming.”

“ _Rin_? I definitely don’t want to go to a social event with Rin.”

Rukia shrugged. “Suit yourself. Some other time, then?”

“Uh… yeah. Is there gonna be drinking?”

Rukia snorted. “Yes.”

Akon made a face. “Rin is not a responsible drinker. Maybe I should come.”

“Maybe you should,” Rukia agreed.

* * *

Byakuya watched out the window of the Thirteenth Division offices.

Rukia was leading a group of young recruits through a sword drill. They were some ways away. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell from her movements that she was enthusiastic and cheerful, not at all the serious student she was in her own lessons with him. 

The sun was bright and the day was warmer than usual for late March, a preview of spring days ahead. It had been a very pleasant walk over to the Thirteenth. It reminded him very much of another such day.

_The weather was lovely and Hisana was having a good day, a rare and precious occurrence as of late._

_"Take me out to the Wilds again," she begged, so they went out to the woods that backed the more formal gardens of the Kuchiki estate. Hisana didn't protest when Byakuya bundled her into a thick hanten, so he didn't put up a fuss when she wanted to climb a tree. He sat on the ground, enjoying the scent of fresh pine as she reclined on a low branch, as noble a Kuchiki queen as he could imagine._

_"What are you going to tell my sister about me, when you find her?" Hisana sighed dreamily._

_"I shall tell her, 'Move your feet, you rapscallion. Your beautiful sister is waiting to meet you, and she shall have my hide if I don't deliver you forthwith.'"_

_Hisana looked down at him, sadness in her eyes. "Please, Byakuya. Tell me?"_

_He sucked his teeth thoughtfully. "I shall tell her your beauty was peerless, your grace unearthly. That flowers sprung from your footsteps and that frogs turned to princes in your wake."_

_"That is where you came from, of course."_

_"Naturally."_

_"You can't tell her that, though! She'll think she has a fairy tale to live up to!"_

_"Very well, then. I shall tell her you were stubborn as an ox."_

_"Tenacious."_

_"That you had a tongue like a poisoned dagger."_

_"I was witty."_

_"And that you had the aspect of a nue if roused before 10 am."_

_"Ah, well, how am I to argue with that one?"_

_Byakuya toyed with a dead leaf he had found on the ground, a remnant from the previous autumn. "Is there something you would like me to tell her?"_

_"That I am sorry. That I was selfish."_

_"I will tell her the first. I will not tell her the second."_

_"I knew you wouldn't, you asshole. Tell her then, that I said to be kind to her new big brother, but be mean to him sometimes, too. Not enough people treat him in either fashion, and it will do him good."_

_"I shall not tell her that, either."_

_Hisana sighed and draped the back of her hand across her forehead. "Ah, me, with such a husband! In that case, tell her this: When love catches her, she must not be afraid to risk everything she has for it, no matter how impossible it seems."_

_At this, Byakuya was silent._

_"Have you ever heard the fairy tales where a mother dies and she leaves behind a tree or a mirror or a few drops of blood on a handkerchief to protect her child? Perhaps not. Perhaps those are stories of the Rukon where all mothers are fairy tales."_

_"I have heard them," Byakuya rebutted._

_"Do you think a sister could pull off such a thing? It seems unfair, I think, that I should have such luck as to trick you into falling in love with me, and then not get to enjoy it. I would like to pass some of it on to her."_

_"I will give her the best life she can imagine," Byakuya promised. "There are other important things in life, besides love. Safety. Comfort. Honor. I cannot guarantee love-- you are correct that it seems to be mostly a matter of luck. I will handle the rest, though."_

_Hisana hummed softly. "All those things are nice, but they aren't what kept me from running back to Inuzuri that night. They weren't why I married you."_

_Byakuya leaned back against the tree trunk. "I love you, too, Hisana."_

“Sorry about that!” Ukitake’s sunny voice interrupted. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. To what do I owe the pleasure, Byakuya? Sentarou! Bring us some tea!”

Byakuya regarded his old mentor, shaking off the fog of old memories. “I wish to discuss a certain wager we made regarding my sister’s performance on the Lieutenant’s Examination.”

“You mean when I bet you that Rukia would outscore your overachieving lieutenant?”

“That is the one.”

Ukitake raised one eyebrow. “You want out, you coward?”

“I do, actually.”

Ukitake blinked. “Come again?”

Byakuya set his jaw. “It is a boring bet and I expect to lose miserably. I cannot believe I let you talk me into it in the first place. I wish to call the entire matter off.”

Ukitake smiled and raised one eyebrow. “So you no longer want me to go easy on her?”

“Ha!” Byakuya barked. “I should tell her to go easy on _you_. She is going to cause you no end of heartburn and lost sleep.”

“All good lieutenants do,” Ukitake replied mildly.

Byakuya sniffed. “Perhaps at first. A good captain sets clear and firm boundaries, and quickly forms his second into a disciplined, competent shadow of himself.”

“Is that so?” Ukitake asked, clearly humoring him. “Clear and firm boundaries, eh? Is that how you molded Rukia into such an obvious shadow of yourself?”

Byakuya sneered. “I can control nothing she does. If you can figure it out, let me know.”

Ukitake laughed, loudly and cheerfully, as Sentarou brought in the tea tray.

* * *

Abarai had been making a cup of tea for the last seventeen minutes.

This was a new record.

He had heated the water, then gone looking for tea bags. He couldn’t find the ones he wanted, so he disappeared for a while, then returned. At this point, he asked Byakuya if he wanted any tea. Byakuya declined. Abarai then couldn’t locate his sugar spoon. He departed again, and there was some shouting from the direction of Ohno and Kuchiki’s office. Abarai returned with a spoon, which he declared was now “gross.” He decided that he would simply pour sugar straight from the canister into his tea, which he attempted to do, and accidentally dumped the entire container into his cup. After cleaning it up, he decided his water was no longer sufficiently hot, so he started the kettle again. He then offered Byakuya another cup of tea.

“Lieutenant,” Byakuya replied, “is something bothering you?”

Abarai took a deep breath through his nose, puffing out his chest. “Sir! I want to ask you for a favor!”

“If I grant it, will you promise to throw that noxious hell-broth in the garbage?” Byakuya blurted out. “I think watching you make it has shaved a hundred years off my life.”

“No problem! Thank you, sir!” Abarai beamed, running over to his desk. He dug around in one of the drawers and pulled out a plain paper bag with the top folded over, which he then deposited in the middle of Byakuya’s desk. 

Byakuya eyed it skeptically. “What is this?”

“It’s shrimp crackers.”

Byakuya stared at the bag of shrimp crackers. Then he stared at Abarai.

“Could you eat one, please, sir? And tell me how it is?”

Gingerly, Byakuya unrolled the top of the bag and peered inside. It did, in fact, appear to be full of shrimp crackers. Carefully, he extracted one, and gave it a curious sniff. His nostril burned and his eyes began to water slightly. “What is wrong with these crackers, Abarai?” Byakuya frowned.

“Nothin’, I hope! They’re just spicy!”

Byakuya squinted at him. “If you are attempting to exact revenge for the nozawana, I warn you, one must get up _very early in the morning_ \--”

“I _do_ get up very early in the morning, sir,” Abarai replied, “but I’m hoping you’ll say they’re good, honest. I’ve made the base recipe a few times now, and it’s pretty good, and I was trying to make a spicy version for Rukia. I can’t try 'em myself, y’know, and you’re the only person I know who likes stuff as spicy as she does.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I made her pickles, too, but those took a month to steep, so they are what they are.”

Byakuya looked at his lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you going to all this trouble for my sister, Lieutenant?”

“Pre-exam dinner, sir!” Abarai barked. “Mostly, she just needs to carb load, so I wanted to throw in a few of her favorite things to make it more interesting.”

“Her exam isn’t for a week!” Byakuya exclaimed.

“That’s why I’m perfectin’ my recipes now!”

Byakuya sighed, and delicately bit off a corner of the shrimp cracker.

Abarai frowned. “I have never seen anyone take a _bite_ of a shrimp cracker before. Have you ever _had_ a shrimp cracker before?”

Byakuya blinked. “My.” His eyes watered. His ears rang. It was like someone had cast a _Haien_ inside his nasal cavities. He put the rest of the cracker in his mouth.

“Is it spicy enough?” Abarai asked hopefully.

Byakuya chewed contemplatively. His _teeth_ were burning. ”The spice is adequate, for someone of Rukia’s constitution,” he declared. “The flavor is superb. My sister should enjoy these.”

Abarai breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.” He reached out to reclaim his bag, but Byakuya grabbed it and swung it away. “You will leave these with me,” he declared. “You should let me sample the pickles, as well. I will not have you feeding my sister substandard condiments.”

“Okay, sir,” Abarai replied, his face splitting into a big grin.

“And get rid of that so-called tea before a Hollow forms from it! I mean it!”

* * *

Rukia hung back on the edge of the training field, watching her Seventh Seat shout out vaguely encouraging sentiments at the upper-level unseated officers who were running back and forth across the field. It was the group Rukia would normally have been in, had she not been assigned to lead the drill for the newest cohort.

"Bring it in, bring it in!" Ooshima called, clapping her hands. Everyone huddled for a few minutes, and then broke apart. The relieved officers streamed off the field with tired grins, most of them waving or greeting Rukia as they passed.

"Hey," Rukia said neutrally, approaching Ooshima as she picked up a variety of cones and flags that were spread out over the field.

"Kuchiki," Ooshima replied tersely without looking up. "Big heroes don't need to run conditioning drills with the other unseated officers, I see."

Rukia wanted to point out that she had made 50 runs through that dumb shunpo course that morning, before drills even started, but instead, she said, "Squad 13 is the best squad in the Gotei!"

Ooshima looked up, a perplexed look on her face.

"We used to be even better!" Rukia went on. "We had a really great lieutenant and an awesome Third Seat, and the reason I want to pass the exam is so I can try to do as much for this Squad as they did. But whether or not I pass, one of the things that makes this squad great is that it's full of good people who care about each other and who solve their problems productively." Rukia swallowed. Ooshima was still staring at her, bored contempt lacing her features. "You're a strong officer, and you would be a good addition to this squad, but you can't go around being a dick to anyone, seated or not. Captain Ukitake is really nice and if you have a problem, go talk it out with him. If you don't want to be here, I'm sure he'll help you transfer to a different squad. If there's something I can do to help you get over whatever beef you've got with me, name it. I don't care if you or anyone else likes me or not, but in Squad 13, we treat each other with respect, and you're setting a bad example."

Ooshima narrowed her eyes. "I outrank you."

"Yes, you do," Rukia agreed. "So I can't make you do anything. I'm just a person who loves her squad, and wants it to be a good place for everyone, regardless of rank. I hope that's something you might want, too."

"Squad 5 was the best squad in the Gotei!" Ooshima growled. "It was full of good people, hard workers, brave soldiers!"

"I get that," Rukia replied. "There can be more than one best squad in the Gotei, y'know."

Ooshima regarded her skeptically.

"But that Squad 5 doesn't exist anymore. I'm gonna try not to badmouth Captain Aizen in front of you, 'cause I know you probably have complicated feelings about him, but he ruined a lotta things, and your Squad 5 was one of them. That really sucks. If anyone gives you any shit about coming from Squad 5 or Aizen or anything, you can tell me, and I'll go give 'em a good talking to, too."

Ooshima frowned. "You are really a strange little person, Kuchiki," she finally declared.

"Yeah, I know," Rukia replied.

"You think you're gonna pass that exam?"

"Probably," Rukia shrugged.

"You should make a pretty interesting lieutenant," Ooshima decided, and resumed picking up her cones.

"Thanks," Rukia replied.

"That wasn't a compliment." She paused. "We're cool, though. I still don't like you, but I get where you're coming from."

"You really should talk to Captain Ukitake, y'know," Rukia suggested. "He's really nice and he's a good listener."

"Yeah, so was Aizen," Ooshima replied. "If I have a problem, I'll come talk to you."

"Oh," said Rukia. "Uh...cool."

* * *

Byakuya watched Rukia down her third helping of soba. "How is your training going, Sister?"

She swallowed and beamed at him. Byakuya's heart tugged. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her make that face. Hisana never made that face. "Really well!" she announced. "I spent all afternoon doing hakuda with Lieutenant Omaeda."

Byakuya grimaced.

"Yeah, I know, he's the worst," Rukia agreed. "But he's really good at hakuda. I have no idea how Renji convinced him to train with me, he's not exactly the most helpful guy, y'know?"

"I have no idea how my wretched lieutenant accomplishes anything, actually," Byakuya put in, and Rukia cracked a grin. "Your test is one week from today?"

"Yep! Oh, I almost forgot! I have a training session scheduled for Saturday afternoon. I know that's sort of turned into our shogi time, but--"

"Your training takes precedence," Byakuya agreed. Suddenly, the mention of Saturday afternoon triggered a memory-- an extremely passive-aggressive note he had received, and a new item penciled onto his schedule.

"Is something the matter?" Rukia asked.

"I just remembered I actually have an engagement on Saturday afternoon in any case," he replied, trying to sound flippant. "It is unpleasant, but fortunately, it does not concern you." This was a lie. It very much concerned Rukia and he was going to have to come up with another lie to explain her absence, but honestly, this was the _last_ thing she needed in the runup to her examination.

"Er, Brother…" Rukia said slowly. "My training on Saturday happens to be at, um Squad 11. But it's just training, honest! I promise not to disgrace myself or besmirch--"

"You may go where you like, Rukia," Byakuya cut her off. "I trust your judgement."

Rukia looked surprised for a moment, and then smiled softly. "Thank you, Brother." She took another bite of her dinner, and then asked, "Can I ask you a history question?"

" _Of course_ you may ask me a history question!" Byakuya replied with an inappropriate excess of enthusiasm. 

Rukia looked slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Well, when I was doing Civics with Lieutenant Hisagi last week, he said that to really understand the logic behind division of duties between the Gotei 13 and the Kidou Corps, you have to understand the events leading up to the 600 Days War, and I said I did, but it turns out I was thinking of the 400 Days War. By the time I realized it, he was talking so much, I never got a chance to tell him. I'm not even sure I even know what the 600 Days War _was_."

"Did your tutor not cover it?" Byakuya frowned.

"He probably did," Rukia sighed. "I try, Brother, really, but especially when I first got here, I was learning so many things all at once… Also, my history tutor is very boring."

Byakuya's initial instinct was to launch into a lecture, except that he recalled, with a sudden twinge of sympathy, Abarai explaining the difficulties presented by a lack of solid early education. "It is no matter assigning blame," Byakuya declared instead. "We must simply address the problem. You have come to the right person. To begin, Lieutenant Hisagi’s observation is very astute, especially from a man who does not appear to know how to comb his own hair. Secondly, the 600 Days War is a misnomer arising from a change in the calendar used by the central record-keeping body of the time."

Rukia stuffed her mouth full of noodles and leaned forward with interest.

* * *

Renji's fingers scrabbled for purchase on the cold, slippery outcropping. He managed to get one foot up onto the side, and with a mighty push, heaved himself up on top of it. For a moment, he lay panting and shivering before sitting up and letting his feet dangle over the edge. The water was frigid, but the sun was warm, and he enjoyed letting his muscles thaw out a bit, feeling more in tune with his snake half for once.

Renji glanced upwards. He was close. He could see the top from here. Well, sort of. The lip of the waterfall had a certain unreality to it. It was frozen over, strangely, a huge ridge of ice protruding from the cliff face. It was going to be a good trick, trying to sling himself over that. He wished he had his shikai here, although Zabimaru hated being used as a grappling hook. As promised, Zabimaru wasn't helping at all in this venture, or at least they hadn't so far. Renji contemplated this, wondered if there wasn't some way he could channel--

"Renji."

Surprised, Renji looked down from his final obstacle. He realized belatedly that the top of the waterfall couldn't possibly be frozen over. How was the water falling, otherwise? But he didn't have much of a chance to think about it, because there was a second outcropping now, mirroring his own, maybe 20 feet away. He was sure it hadn't been there before. Sitting on the edge, feet dangling into the spray, was Rukia.

Maybe.

Her eyes were the wrong color, pale and icy. Renji knew, suddenly, with complete certainty, that this is what they looked like in bankai. 

She was young, barely out of girlhood. Renji recognized the yukata she wore, pink-on-pink, a hand-me-down from the District 70 Consolidated Shinigami Recruitment Station. It was a little faded and not her colors at all, the finest article of clothing she had ever owned at the time, worn on that long journey up through the districts of South Rukongai. 

Renji went to wipe some water out of his face, and realized that, not only was his bandana missing, but his hairline started a lot lower on his forehead than he expected. He glanced at his arms and, noting the absence of both muscle definition and tattoos, realized that he must have reverted to a younger version of himself as well.

"You can't go any further, Renji, not now," Rukia told him. She spoke softly. He shouldn't have been able to hear her at all over the roar of the waterfall.

"I've been there before," he said, gesturing to the ledge above him, and somehow, as he said it, he knew it was true.

"Maybe," she replied.

"Someday?" he asked.

Her face turned thoughtful. "I don't know. I'm sorry. You made it all the way up here, but we're not ready yet. We have a little more growing to do."

Renji put his hands on his knees."'Sokay. I'm a patient guy. I'll just try again in a year or two." He regarded her fondly, his old friend Inuzuri Rukia, a girl who owned nothing, who was clever and mean and resourceful, a girl that no one would dare write a poem about. "Why are you here?" he asked. 

"Am I not a part of you?" 

"I 'spose." He jerked his head toward the top of the waterfall. "That a part of me, too?"

"Mmm," Rukia nodded. 

Renji looked up again at the icy crest of the waterfall, and then down the dizzying height he had just scaled. "How the hell am I gonna get down?" 

"I can help with that," Rukia replied. "It has been good to see you. Until next time. Renji." 

Abruptly, he was back in one of the Squad 6 training rooms, Zabimaru balanced on his knees. Many times, the spirit of his zapakutou had challenged him to be fiercer, tougher, more persistent. They had never, ever, told him to wait patiently for anything. That was the sort of bullshit Rukia's zanpakutou always dumped on her. "What. The. Fuck?" he grumbled.   
  


* * *

Byakuya flipped over a page of the April budget request. Had Abarai included the line item for refreshing the sand in the rock garden, this time? Ah, yes, there it was!

He glanced up briefly. Abarai was sitting at his desk, hands folded neatly, _staring_ at him. "Do you not have anything more pressing to attend to?" Byakuya asked.

"Just waitin' to see if you got any more corrections to that budget," Abarai replied cheerfully. "I'd like t'get it finished up and submitted, ASAP."

Byakuya turned back to the budget. How was a man to work under these conditions? This was the fourth iteration of this budget, surely, it was fine, maybe he could just-- no! He would not let Abarai goad him into sloppy habits! Carefully, methodically, he checked through the final rows. Finally, "All seems to be in order, Lieutenant," he said, signing the cover sheet. "There is no need to hand this in personally, I am sure the interoffice mail will be sufficient. It is not due until next week."

Abarai's face split into an enormous, slightly unhinged grin.

"Are you… feeling well, Lieutenant?"

"I'm done," Abarai replied, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, that is what I said. You may submit it. You have the manila envelopes."

"No, no. I'm _done_ ," Abarai repeated, pushing himself to his feet. “Not only am I completely caught up from the time I was gone, I am _caught up, period_. Four months of paperwork, done in six weeks! After I turn that budget request in, I got _nothin’_. Until Monday. When last year’s Hollow statistics come out and we gotta go back and audit the logs. It’s gonna be bananas, I don’t even know how they’re gonna count Arrancar, but that’s _Monday._ ”

“Abarai,” Byakuya interrupted. “It’s 4:45 on Friday.”

“A whole weekend! With no paperwork hanging over me! Sir!”

A sudden thought popped into Byakuya’s head. No. It was terrible. He shouldn’t. The man had just completed a Herculean administrative task, he deserved his Leisure Hours. But it was certainly a solution to his problem. “You are free this weekend, then?”

Abarai hemmed. “Well, ah, I do have plans on Saturday night. Dinner with friends, y’know.”

“But not Saturday afternoon.”

“No, sir. Do you… do you need me to do something?”

“I recently did you a ‘favor’,” Byakuya reminded him.

“That’s true,” Abarai frowned.

“I obviously cannot order you to do this,” Byakuya started, “but I would also ask a favor. It is not so much a favor for me as a favor for Rukia.” He paused. “No, it is actually a favor for me.”

Abarai narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Byakuya told him.

Abarai’s nostrils flared. “I will do it.”

“You will?”

“Sure. I got a new haori, by the way. I think you’ll approve, nice silk, pretty plain, dark color. Rukia helped me--”

“Abarai,” Byakuya cut him off. “Can you possibly borrow that garish, gold-craned monstrosity again?”

“Oh,” Abarai frowned. “Yeah, I can do that.”

* * *

"I thought you were banned from the Eleventh?" Yumichika drawled slyly as Rukia strode up.

"My brother and I came to an agreement," Rukia replied. "Wait, is my lesson with you?"

"Who did you think it was with? Yachiru?"

"I don't know!" Rukia shrugged. "My schedule just said 'Squad 11.' There wasn't even a topic listed. I brought my sword."

Yumichika snorted delicately. "You won't need it. Follow me."

Rukia glanced around as she followed Yumichika through the grounds of the Eleventh. She had honestly expected it to be one perpetual, ongoing Brawl around here, but it actually seemed a lot like any other division, if a bit more casual. There were no puddles of blood or dismembered corpses littering the streets. Most of the people they passed acknowledged Yumichika in some way, whether it was a curt head nod, a grunted "Afternoon, sir!" or a shouted jibe.

"Hey, Ayesegawa! Whatchu doing with Abarai's girlfriend? He'll mangle you!"

Rukia's ears burned, but Yumichika seemed unphased.

"Trying to talk some sense into her! And I can still take his fancy Squad Six ass!"

"Fat chance, sir! You skip too many leg days!" 

Yumichika made a rude gesture and the man laughed as he passed.

Rukia tried to hunch into her kosode.

"Is that Lady Kuchiki?"

Rukia was somewhat shocked to hear her title used. The speaker this time was a very large, very young fellow who looked vaguely familiar.

"That was a great fight against the Third Seat, ma'am!"

"Ah, thank you!" Rukia stammered.

"Newb," Yumichika muttered.

"Was he in the last Brawl?" Rukia asked. "I thought he looked familiar!"

"Yeah, apparently he was failing all his classes at the Academy, so he gave it a shot," Yumichika frowned. "Speaking of unorthodox entrants, are you the one responsible for Hirata?"

Rukia blinked, struggling to place the name, when suddenly the association snapped into place. "Hirata _Sasori_?" she gasped. "Tall, silver-blonde hair, _very noble_ , likes sharp things?"

"That's the one," Yumichika agreed.

Rukia frowned. Hirata had sent her a weird text a few weeks ago, just a zanpakutou emoji followed by a thumb's up. It had come on the same day she got sent on that dimensional breach mission, and with all that happened afterward, she'd forgotten to follow up on it. "How do you know her?"

"She showed up a few weeks ago, asking about signing up for the next Brawl. Ikkaku mouthed off to her and she broke his nose."

Rukia couldn't help herself, she let out a cackle.

"To make a long story somewhat shorter, they fought, she impressed him, and he made an exception from our usual process and let her in."

"Good on Hirata!" Rukia declared.

Yumichika regarded her with hooded eyes. "That woman is so much trouble. She's Ikkaku's darling now, she's all that he'll talk about. We gave her an asauchi and it wasn't in her hands ten minutes before it told her its name. Yachiru calls her The Empress, which is the only cool nickname Yachiru has ever given anyone. Oh, and Zaraki and I had to go meet with her father, who was absolutely livid over the whole thing. I am pretty sure that old fart went into the meeting thinking he was going to try to con Zaraki into marrying her, and realized his mistake just immediately."

"You're welcome!" Rukia hooted, making a mental note to meet up with Hirata for tea ASAP.

"At least she came with a flawless skincare routine, so at least that's _one thing_ off my plate," Yumichika sighed dramatically, unlocking a door in a building that looked an awful lot like a dormitory. "Speaking of which, please come in."

Rukia stepped inside. 

The first thing she noticed was the houseplants, of which there were many. A pleasant odor-- sandalwood maybe?-- wafted throughout the room. There was a lovely little sitting area, silk cushions in jewel tones artfully scattered around an artsy colored glass table. There were scarves draped _everywhere_.

"Is this _your place_?" Rukia blurted out.

"This is _our_ place, yes," Yumihika agreed, sitting down and picking up a large sketchpad that had been sitting on the table. He pointed to another cushion, and Rukia gingerly sat down.

"Wait, _Ikkaku_ lives here?" Rukia gasped.

Yumichika regarded her through his feathers. "Yes? Do you think a man who chooses to present himself as a ruffian can have no appreciation for beauty?"

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. She supposed that Ikkaku must find Yumichika himself beautiful. She had never considered that before, but to be honest, it was kind of sweet. "Wait a second," she exclaimed. "Why are we in your quarters anyway? What are we doing?"

"We're going to figure out your Aesthetic, Kuchiki," Yumichika replied. "I made some preliminary sketches, but keep in mind that almost everything I know about you comes from Abarai's fevered rantings, so--"

"Wait, we're doing _what_?" Rukia exclaimed. "What does this have to do with the Lieutenant’s Exam?"

"Nothing, really," Yumichika admitted.

Rukia jumped up again. "My exam is in a week! I don't have time for this, I need to train! Can't we fight, instead? Is Madarame around? Maybe he would fight me…."

The entire time Rukia had been shouting, Yumichika had been typing rapidly on his phone without breaking eye contact with her.

Exactly twelve seconds after he hit "send," Rukia's phone rang. She pulled it out of her kosode, staring at the caller ID in horror. "I think you ass-dialed me," she informed the caller.

"I did not," Renji replied. "I called you _on purpose_ to tell you with my _actual voice_ to relax and do whatever Yumi tells you to."

"Renji! I am taking this test in _five days_!"

"That's right, and if you keep going at your current pace, you're gonna be an exhausted mess by Thursday. You are _on track_. What you really need is to spend a little time thinkin' about how bitchin' you're gonna look with that badge on your arm, and whatever fucking headdress Yumi decides to put on you."

Rukia glanced at Yumichika, who was idly flipping through his sketchpad.

"And then, after that," Renji was still talking, "you're gonna let him give you a facial and listen to whatever he has to say about your cheekbones-- which I tell you, is gonna sound like some insulting bullshit, but he is gonna be 100% correct-- and then he's gonna do your makeup and everyone's gonna tell you how great you look at the thing tonight."

"Renjiiiiii," Rukia whined. "I never wear makeup, except when I’m doing noble stuff. I'll look stupid!"

"Rukiaaaaaaaa," he whined back at her. "Rikichi and me are turning _up_ tonight, you gotta get on our level."

"Shut the fuck up! Why would you turn up for _this_ of all things?"

"Rikichi wanted to and we're going off-base and it's been way too long since I did tiger eyes and it'll be fun. Look, Ru, I gotta go, I'm gonna be tied up most of the afternoon, but this is important and you should try to have fun and I can't wait to see how you look! Tell Yumi to take progress pics!"

"Renji!" Rukia wailed. "What do you mean you're tied up? What are you doing? And what the fuck are tiger eyes?"

"He's doing tiger eyes?!" Yumichika gasped. "That bastard! It is _on_."

"You'll find out tonight," Renji promised, and hung up.

Slowly, Rukia shut her phone. “Fuck that guy,” she muttered. “Like he has any kind of aesthetic.”

Yumichika cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you kidding me? The man has _forehead tattoos_.”

“Yeah, but that’s just… what he looks like,” Rukia grumbled. “He didn’t do anything special when he became a vice-captain.”

“That’s because Six is a bunch of boring stuffed shirts and he didn’t want to unleash _this_ on them right away.” Yumichika turned his sketchbook around.

“Holy shit,” Rukia murmured.

The Renji who had accepted the position of Vice-Captain of the Sixth-- the Renji who had come to retrieve her from the World of the Living-- wore the standard uniform, give or take an expensive pair of sunglasses, and yet somehow managed to subvert it. Most shinigami looked sharp and disciplined in their shihakushou, but Renji looked wild. Angry. Dangerous. By her brother's side, he looked like a feral dog being kept on a short leash. 

The Renji in Yumichika's drawing still looked dangerous, but also powerful and confident, a wolf attending his captain of his own volition. Loyal, but not tame. His long hair cascaded down over his shoulders, held back from his face by a wide, raw-edged black bandana that covered most of the tattoos on his forehead. Conversely, the ones on his chest were now visible through the deep V of his shihakushou top. Renji habitually wore a little eyeliner to work, but it was thicker now, sharp enough to cut yourself on. He looked strong. He looked vaguely Kenpachi-like. Moreover, he looked _insanely_ hot.

“I don’t suppose you’ve even noticed that he’s been growing his hair out or that he’s been letting his kosode hang a little loose,” Yumichika's voice broke through her reverie.

“Not that loose!” Rukia yelped. 

“There are two aspects to designing your look,” Yumichika explained. “First, how it reflects you personally. Secondly, how it complements the people you most frequently will be seen around. Abarai is big and he’s loud and he has pec tattoos. He likes to give off the impression that he doesn’t care what people think of him, whether or not it’s true. This is a very in-your-face look and it’s great for him. He wanted the forearm wraps. I’m not sure why, but when his shirt inevitably falls off in battle, at least he’s got them, so I let him have it.”

“He has a bad wrist,” Rukia mentioned. "I don't think it bothers him, but he likes to have something tight on it." She hadn't even noticed the wraps.

“Oh, right,” Yumichika agreed. “I think I knew that. Anyway, this entire thing is a great contrast to your brother. Kuchiki’s covered up in a haori and a scarf, Renji’s letting his chest hang out. Kuchiki’s got white accents on his wrists and head, Renji’s got black. The two of them have the best hair game in the Gotei-- your brother lets his hang loose and it does whatever he wants it to and it’s dark and silky and I’m honestly getting overheated just thinking about it. Renji gives off the impression that he doesn’t know the business end of a hairbrush, but that shit is soft as _fuck_ and you will not find a split end in there.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Rukia managed. 

“They are an illustrative example, for one thing, and for another, you hang out with both of them, and you are going to need to hook into their aesthetic.”

“Oh, of course,” Rukia replied blankly.

“You have your own captain to consider, of course,” Yumichika pointed out. “Tall, pale, _that hair_. Very simple, classic look, monochrome, big contrast with his romantic partner. Now, you don’t _have_ to contrast your partner, you can match instead. That’s classic Squad 6, where you have an old Kuchiki and a young Kuchiki in coordinating accessories. And that’s why I bring this up, is because I think you can really work the Young Kuchiki aesthetic.” He flipped a few pages in his sketchpad, and flipped it around again.

“You drew a picture of me?” Rukia said, a little taken aback.

“You drew a picture of me as some sort of parakeet,” Yumichika bristled back.

“Oh, yeah,” Rukia remembered. “Yours is pretty good, actually.”

“Thank you,” Yumichika preened.

Rukia contemplated the drawing. It was her, but it was also a capital-L Lieutenant. The badge was right there, looking huge against her arm. “I can’t have those hair clips,” she finally said. “They look too much like kenseikan.”

Yumichika’s brows creased. “That was the idea.”

“Well, you see, they’re a mark of being in the line of succession, and I’m very much not. That’s a sensitive topic in the family, a lot of people would get really pissed off.”

“Ahhhh, I see. I didn’t know.”

“No, no, it was a cool idea. I like the tekkou, though.” She bit her lip. “You really think they should be over-the-elbow?”

“I do,” Yumichika announced. “It will make your arms look longer, for one. It evokes evening gloves, which is very elegant, much like yourself. And it’s a bit sexy, which keeps you from looking too cute.”

Rukia’s eyes went wide. “That’s not really… I mean… I’m not…” she stammered.

Yumichika waved a hand. “Not like… Matsumoto sexy. The way your brother is sexy, even though he’s entirely covered up and looks bored all the time. Sexy, in a disinterested sort of way.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Why is one sleeve shorter than the other?”

“Asymmetry is dramatic. Also, Abarai told me that sometimes your sleeve gets in the way when you’re trying to draw your sword.”

“It’s not my fault my arms are so small and shihakushou sleeves are so big!” Rukia burst out defensively.

“Truly, it is not and this will help," Yumichika said soothingly. "And it’s so stylish, no one will guess the real reason behind it.” Yumichika rubbed his chin. “Would you let me trim your hair?”

“It isn’t short enough?” Rukia frowned, her hand going to the hair automatically.

“That’s not it. I actually really like the length on you. But the cut is too neat, too blunt. I want to rough it up a bit, give you that same tousled, but too-good-looking-to-care look as your brother, writ short. You hang out exclusively with tall men with long, flowing hair, so that’s gonna make you look tough as hell.”

“Hmm,” Rukia contemplated.

“This is a great look overall. You’re monochrome, like your captain, which is also going to look great with that sword of yours. You’ll look like an echo of your brother when you go around with him. Not everyone could pull that off, but I think you can. And of course, you’re going to look good with Abarai, for all the same reasons he looks great with his captain, although you’ll come off more as equals, since you aren't going to have the haori.”

"Or the height," Rukia sighed.

"Height differences are a strange thing," Yumichika mused. "Standing next to Abarai makes your brother look short even though he isn't. But because everything about your brother exudes power, the effect is,'this guy may not be tall, but he's bossing around this tattooed brute.' Likewise, when you run around with...well, any of your boys, really, the implication is that you wouldn't be keeping pace with them if you weren't a Bitch To Watch Out For."

"You're sure I don't just look like Yachiru following Zaraki around?"

Yumichika shot her a finger gun. "That's what the sexy gloves are for."

Rukia tried to picture herself as the Badass Lieutenant in Yumichika's drawing standing beside Badass Lieutenant Renji. She _was_ a Bitch to Watch Out For, _actually_ , and she liked the idea of looking the part, for once. They were going to look tough as fuck, mean and cool and absolutely oozing strength. Rukia was struck with a sudden memory of putting on a bit of a comedy act with Renji for the other boys, jumping around in their threadbare yukatas, waving sticks and pretending to be soul reapers, amid peels of boyish laughter. How had they actually made it to this point? How had she possibly been so lucky? Rukia swallowed down her misty nostalgia. “Yeah, let’s try the thing you suggested with my hair. You really think it’ll look good, like Brother’s? I’ve never been too good at getting my hair to do what I want it to.”

“Kuchiki, I will give you a _regime_ ,” Yumichika replied. He pursed his lips. "Are you sure you like it? You won't hurt my feelings if you had something else in mind."

"I do really like it," Rukia admitted. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to put me in sequins or something."

Yumichika waved a hand dismissively. "You seemed nervous, so I skipped all the _avant garde_ ones."

Rukia raised one eyebrow.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow back. "Do you… want to _see_ the _avante garde_ ones?"

"I do," Rukia intoned.

Yumichika flipped through his sketchpad. "How do you feel about…" he whipped it around, "half-capes?"

" _Wow_ ," Rukia replied.

* * *

"You are wearing too much eyeliner," Byakuya muttered. "And why is your kosode tied so sloppily? Your tattoos are visible."

"You said," Abarai replied very calmly, "that you wanted me to come off as a charmingly idiotic roughneck."

"Those are not the words I used."

"With all due respect, sir, you know _nothing_ about being a charmingly idiotic roughneck. And I know everything."

Byakuya clenched his fists. "I knew this was a mistake. You should leave. I will handle this--"

"The Lady Kuchiki Azami," a footman announced.

Byakuya and Renji jumped to their feet.

"Good afternoon, Aunt," Byakuya said smoothly. "It is--"

"HONORABLE GREETINGS, YOUR LADYSHIP!" Renji bellowed at the same time.

Byakuya's head whipped around and he stared daggers at his adjutant.

"Which one of us is 'sposed to go first?" Renji whispered loudly. "I figured it was me, like the way I announce it when you come on the field during a drill."

"I go first," Byakuya hissed back.

Aunt Azami stood frozen in the doorway, looking utterly gobsmacked.

"Hello, Aunt," Byakuya started again. "You look lovely today. I am so pleased you were able to join us. Unfortunately, my lady sister is indisposed this afternoon, so I invited my adjutant. You were just saying how you wished to meet him."

"Er," Aunt Azami managed.

"Lieutenant Abarai Renji, of the Sixth Division!" Renji barked, bowing crisply. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am!"

"I was in the middle of introducing you," Byakuya said out of the side of his mouth.

"Oh, sorry. Go ahead."

There was an awkward silence, before Byakuya awkwardly continued, "This is Lieutenant Abarai Renji."

"Of the Sixth Division," Renji added.

Byakuya took a deep breath through his nose. "Abarai, this is my father's cousin by marriage, Kuchiki Azami."

"Your first cousin, once-removed," Renji announced with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy who has bothered to do his homework for once. Abarai was laying it on too thick, this was going to end in flames. “By marriage.”

Byakuya had no choice but to keep it going, though. Not that it was difficult to feign irritation. "Yes, but I have a large family, so I address her as 'Aunt'."

"Got it!" Renji flashed him a thumbs-up.

Aunt Azami had settled herself in her seat, and was smoothing her kimono. She seemed to have recovered from her initial shock, and her face wore an almost predatory gleam. “I am delighted to meet you, Lieutenant Abarai of the Sixth Division.” 

Renji flashed her the sort of smile that was _absolutely inappropriate_ for flashing at someone’s aunt. Aunt Azami’s eyes widened, and she tried to look away from Abarai’s face, only to end up staring at his chest. Flustered, her eyes darted back up to his face, and landed on that atrocious eyeliner. Dammit, had the man _planned_ this? Aunt Azami cleared her throat and busied herself examining the tray of tea goodies. 

“You’ve been at the Sixth… nearly a year? How do you find it? My nephew must keep you very busy. I never see you at social events.”

“A year in May, ma’am!”

“It is 'my Lady', not ma’am’,” Byakuya interrupted, but Renji rambled blithely onward.

“I love it! The Sixth is full o’ such disciplined, hard-workers! A lot of really talented folks, spiritual energy-speaking. I tend to approach things a little different than the Captain here, but I think that’s been real good for everyone. Don’t you agree, Captain?”

“Yes, the Division is running quite smoothly,” Byakuya sighed, taking a sip of tea.

“You don’t find it difficult, Lieutenant, to overcome the differences of class?” Azami asked mildly.

Abarai made a thoughtful face, the thick black lines around his eyes making the effect utterly absurd. “Yeah, I ‘spose some of ‘em are a bit delicate-- worry about gettin’ calluses on their hands, wrinkling their shihakushou, an' so on, but they’re good people. In general, I don’t judge ‘em too harsh.”

Byakuya nearly sprayed tea out his noble nose. Abarai’s delivery had been _perfect_ , completely innocent, dripping with honesty. It took all he had to keep his face in its usual disinterested mask. Azami was clearly trying to do the same and not entirely succeeding. She clenched her back teeth and came back in for another swing.

“Speaking of nobility, I hear you are quite close with our dear Lady Rukia.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I think she’s just the best, don’t you? Captain knew what he was doing when he adopted her, that’s for sure.”

Byakuya looked at Abarai out of the corner of his eye. If there was one topic on which Abarai had absolutely no capacity for subtlety, it was Rukia.

Aunt Azami took a sip of her tea and tilted her head. “Mm, yes, certainly.” She glanced at Byakuya briefly and then regarded Abarai with lidded eyes. “What, exactly, are your intentions towards our Rukia, Lieutenant Abarai?”

Byakuya’s grip tightened on his teacup. No. This was not happening. He did not want to hear the answer to this question. This was bad. This was _the worst_.

Abarai made a face like he was about to start barking orders. “My sword is Lady Rukia’s for the askin’, and hers is for mine! I will fight by her side to my dyin’ breath! I will do all in my power to protect her happiness, her family and friends!”

Byakuya blinked. The answer was enthusiastic, utterly sincere, and completely anodyne. Byakuya recalled Abarai’s stammered, rambling pledge of loyalty a few weeks past. There was no way this had been spontaneous. A chill went down Byakuya's spine. There was really only one reason Byakuya could think of as to why the man would have a canned answer at the ready. _I can't tell you fancy lies,_ Abarai had said, _I'm just a soldier,_ and, indeed, he seemed to be incapable of doing anything but speaking the truth.

“Unless, of course, your Captain ordered you otherwise,” Aunt Azami pressed, determined to pry _something_ damning out of Abarai. "Obviously, your first loyalty is to him."

“I have done so before,” Byakuya interrupted coldly. “And sworn not to do so again. The day that I break that oath is the day I expect Abarai to turn his sword on me. I do not wish to speak on this topic further.”

Abarai was staring at Byakuya, looking a bit lost. Byakuya honestly wasn’t sure if this was genuine, or just part of the act. Abarai quickly recomposed himself into his harmless moron face again. “Speakin’ of swords, have you seen Lady Rukia’s, Lady Kuchiki? It’s the most beautiful in Soul Society.”

“I am sure I have seen it,” Aunt Azami dismissed. “I am not a warrior, Lieutenant, a sword is just a sword to me.”

Abarai stuffed an entire cracker into his mouth and then proceeded to talk with it stuffed in his cheek, like some sort of rodent. “You’re in luck, then,” he enthused, his cheerful voice garbled by cracker. “‘Cause I know a _lot_ about swords, and I’m happy to tell you all about it.” 

Aunt Azami flashed Byakuya an offended glare, obviously expecting to save her from this. Instead, Byakuya folded his hands neatly, and settled himself in for a paean to Rukia’s blade, which, to be fair, was also one of _his_ favorite zanpakutou in all of Soul Society.

* * *

"So, do you know why most shinigami wear eyeliner?" Yumichika asked, as he traced along the edge of Rukia's lower eyelid. "You don't wear it yourself."

"I don’t want to make more work for my maid," Rukia admitted. "And if I tried to do it myself first thing in the morning, I’d put my eye out. Anyway, it's because the first shinigami used to black out their eye sockets with charcoal so they looked skeletal, right?"

"Right! Abarai went through a period where he did that."

"What, full old-school skull makeup?"

"Yeah, actual charcoal and everything. That was the same time when he was dying his hair black."

"You are shitting me." Rukia couldn't picture it, Renji without his red hair. Her brain refused to try. It wasn't right. She wondered if there were pictures.

"The man was clearly working through some things. Anyway, one day Iba did his face up the same way, except he insisted on wearing his sunglasses as well, and that was the end of that. I think it had nearly run its course anyway, but sometimes it's hard to let go of a mood, am I right? Let's see… were you at all aware of the punk movement in the Living World, twenty or thirty years ago? Spiked hair, leather, a lot of shouting and stomping? We were all _so_ into that. Let's be honest, the captain still is. Abarai used to wear these black studded wrist cuffs that--"

"Why are you telling me this?!" Rukia protested. "I'm sure Renji doesn't want you to tell me these things."

"Eyes closed!" Yumichika scolded. "And a man goes out in public serving a look, people are going to talk about it." He paused, his perfect brows creasing. "If you think I am making fun of him, you are mistaken. The tasteless meatslabs in this division love to brag about how fearless they are, and yet, you suggest some spray-in highlights and they look like they’ve been sentenced to death. I have never known _anyone_ who will take the sorts of fashion risks Abarai does. He doesn’t always have the best judgement, but he’s incredibly creative and ballsy as hell. He has this reputation for being a bad dresser, and it’s honestly very undeserved-- the problem is that he’s _only_ good at turning it up to 11. He doesn’t know what to do with himself on a lazy Saturday. I, myself, have the same problem, which I deal with by looking this good 100% of the time.” Yumichika was silent for a moment, and Rukia assumed he was concentrating on whatever he was doing to her face. “We all knew Abarai had no intention of staying here,” he finally said. “But we liked him. He was part of Squad 11 whether he wanted to be or not.”

“Everyone likes him,” Rukia agreed offhandedly.

“You don’t get it,” Yumichika replied, his voice gaining an edge. “He was always looking ahead. We get a fair amount of morons who think Squad 11 is a good place to get strong as a stepping stone to bigger and better things, and they almost always quit within a year. It might have been because Abarai had the dumb luck to end up rooming with Iba, who was here for the same reason. The two of them were absolutely insufferable, but at least they did paperwork. What was I talking about? Right. Abarai’s eyes were always on you, you and your brother. He always wanted to be better than he was. He drank with us and he did facials with us and he bled with us and he wrote his dumb newspaper column and stomped around the barracks in hideous bathrobes with Iba and shouted about leg day constantly and _we liked him that way,_ but somehow he didn't.”

It hit Rukia suddenly what Yumichika was getting at. Her eyes snapped open. “Hey!” she protested. “I didn’t ask him to bust ass to make lieutenant, for my brother or anyone else! He’s the one who always wanted to move up in Soul Society. I wouldn’t have even gone to the Kuchikis if he hadn’t told me to! You think I don’t know about his dumb bullshit? I have seen Renji-bullshit you wouldn't believe! You think I judge him for it? Trust me, _no one_ loves Renji on his bullshit more than I do!” She hesitated. “And by ‘love’ I mean appreciate in a very deep, but platonic way.”

“I knew what you meant,” Yumichika replied coolly. “He told you to go to the Kuchikis?”

“Yeah,” Rukia grumbled. “I dunno. Maybe I would’ve gone with them either way. Who could say no to an offer like that? I was just a dumb kid then.”

“Well, I certainly would have taken it,” Yumichika declared. “Close your eyes again.” He was quiet for a moment while he resumed his work. “Well, it’s your job, then, to make sure he doesn’t actually take himself as seriously as he pretends to.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m on it,” Rukia assured him. “But Renji works really hard on making himself into the person he wants to be and I’m proud of him. I try to make sure he knows that, too.”

Yumichika sighed heavily. “Ugh, you’re almost as disgustingly earnest as he is. You two deserve each other.”

“Okay, fine!," Rukia snapped. "Then tell me what Renji's Yachiru nickname was."

“Oh,” Yumichika replied. "Wrong Way."

"Wrong Way?" Rukia echoed.

"Wrong Way," Yumichika confirmed.

"He told me that Yachiru nicknames were never ironic!"

"She didn't mean it ironically, she was very serious about it. As you may know, our beloved captain has many fine qualities, but his sense of direction is not one of them. His vice-captain is even worse, in the sense that she does not know where she is going _very confidently_. Ikkaku doesn't know where anything is because he is bad at paying attention, and I honestly just don't care. Iba usually knew where we should be going, but never bothered to argue with us. Abarai, on the other hand, can find his way around the Seireitei blindfolded. In addition, he possesses a very keen reiatsu sense, and an assortment of backwoodsman-style, broken-twig spotting, dirt-tasting tracking skills. Zaraki realized very quickly that if we brought him along, we would actually start making it to the places we were trying to get to. Yachiru never bought in, you see. She was always convinced he was leading us astray, and screamed at him the whole time. As impressive as his ability to locate things is, imagine him doing it with a small child clinging to his back, gnawing on him or possibly beating him about the head and shoulders with her sheathed sword."

Rukia chuckled. She could picture it perfectly.

"She warmed up to him eventually," Yumichika went on. "Ikkaku, damn him, taught Abarai to whittle, and he made her this _fucking whistle_. The only good thing about it was that you knew she was coming. You'd hear this _squealing_ , and people would be running, ducking under tables." Yumichika took a long pause. "I have no idea what ever happened to that whistle. It just disappeared one day. A great mystery of the universe." There was the sound of something snapping closed. “I am done. You can open your eyes now. What do you think?"

Rukia opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to identify the person in the mirror blinking back at her. That person was very _blue._ And shimmery.

"One might be tempted to put you in a combination of pale and dark blues," Yumichika pontificated, "in part because of your powers, but also because of your coloring. That is a mistake, though, it's too harsh. For a casual event, that is. When you want to look imposing, go for it. I've used a lot of turquoises, with a bit of pink as an undertone. Gold rather than silver glitter. It's a mermaid look, but, warm."

"Is that why you gave me sandy hair?" She had been skeptical of the tousled, artfully messy tangle he'd made of her hair, but with the cloud of blue-green haloing her eyes, she did rather look like she was ready to drag a man to his watery doom. 

"Beachy hair!" Yumichika corrected with exasperation. "Abarai's going to be all fire tones, you two are going to look amazing together."

"I don't have to coordinate with him all the time," Rukia grumbled. 

Yumichika shrugged. “No, of course you don't _have to_. But why not do it when you _can_?”

“Oh,” Rukia said. “Maybe I could.”

* * *

Renji leaned forward attentively as Aunt Azumi related a tale of her youth in which she had once spurned the affections of someone who may have been marginally famous at the time. Renji could recognize name-dropping when he heard it, even though it seemed pretty obvious that everyone involved in this story had probably passed through the resurrection cycle multiple times by now. Appearing interested in boring stories was just another skill, though, like casing a joint or picking a pocket. It was particularly trivial with people like Azami, who was clearly used to being ignored by ungrateful nephews and delighted to have stumbled upon a willing audience. The fact that Byakuya was staring off into the middle distance and stuffing cucumbers into his mouth seemed to support this theory.

The fact was, Azami had turned out to be a phenomenally easy mark. Renji had expected nobles to be much more suspicious and canny than your typical Inuzuri low-life, but she seemed to have taken his beefy, guileless idiot act at face value. At first, she seemed determined to score some sort of points on him, but it isn’t much fun to score points on someone who responds to roasts with earnest good cheer. He had nattered on about Sode no Shirayuki for a while, taking a sidebar into how Zabimaru’s joints worked, and then segueing into a description of their adventures in Hueco Mundo, and _just when_ her eyes started glossing over, he asked her if she had ever traveled much outside of the Seireitei. Knocked completely off her guard, she stammered out something about the family’s lake house, and it only took a few encouraging noises and hooded glances to get her talking to him like an old friend. This was stupidly easy when he wasn’t actually trying to get anything out of the mark, aside from wanting her to leave with a vaguely positive impression of him, and to not be too pissed that she’d missed out on a chance to needle Rukia for an hour. Renji was sorely tempted to try to get her to tell him about where she stored her most valuable set of jewelry, just for the professional pride of it. Dammit, _no_. He hadn’t even liked stealing when he _had_ to do it, why would he be thinking about it now? And furthermore, how had Rukia, who _did_ enjoy it, not managed to rob these people blind by now?

Byakuya suddenly perked up, and Renji noticed the Head Old Guy Servant hovering in the doorway. 

“Ah, Aunt,” Byakuya announced, “it appears our time is up! I have an engagement at the Kasumiohji household this evening and we certainly don’t want to take up all of Lieutenant Abarai’s afternoon.”

Aunt Azami looked briefly surprised before turning her steely gaze on her nephew. Or first cousin, once-removed, by marriage. Whatever. “We never had a chance to discuss the matter I mentioned in my letter.”

Byakuya’s face turned hard. “Aunt, this is not a topic I prefer to address in mixed company.”

Some fight-or-flight instinct in Renji’s brain started sirens wailing around his skull.

“I do owe Lord Tsuda an answer, Nephew,” Azami sighed, her voice sugary and very, very fake. “His offer was very generous.”

Byakuya’s nostrils flared slightly. “The answer is no.”

“Byakuya. Did you see the amount--?”

Renji had no idea what this was about, but he could tell that Byakuya, who usually shut down his relatives’ annoying requests with barely a spare thought, was _pissed_.

“Aunt,” his voice spoke, with a tone that commanded _“Scatter,”_ “Rukia is about to pass the vice-captain’s examination, which will put her among the most elite shinigami. I would be a fool to accept an offer on her hand at this juncture. I would be a fool in any case to let her marry out of the family. Do you think our clan lacks wealth? What it lacks is martial strength! Rukia is the first vice-captain our family has produced since myself." He gestured toward Renji. "Do you think…? If someone were available…?" He couldn't seem to complete the thought, which struck Renji as a little odd. Everyone involved was well aware of the unique circumstances that had opened up a lieutenancy at the Sixth, and it wasn't as if Byakuya had ever held back from insulting Renji to his face before, even when he wasn't playacting as the sort of buffoon that would drive anyone to day-drinking. "Do not try to make deals regarding my sister on my behalf, Aunt, unless you stumble across someone who comes with their own bankai, is that clear?”

The blood pounded in Renji’s ears. Every muscle in his body had locked. He had figured out what this conversation was about. I have bankai, his brain peeped up helpfully. Hey. Hey, Captain. I have no money and a bankai and I am _right here_.

Aunt Azami scowled. “You probably didn’t even ask her. You are doing her a great disservice. He would offer her a wonderful social position.”

Byakuya just glared at her. The fact that blood did not begin to spurt from her ears gave Renji new respect for the old bird. 

Azami didn't even seem _phased_ by any of this. “Thank you for the lovely tea, dear. We should do this again, soon.” She bestowed a simpering look on Renji. “It was a _delight_ to meet you, Lieutenant. My nephew neglects your social elevation. You should come take tea at my house some time. I shall invite my nieces. They are all very proper young ladies and I am sure they would love to help you brush up on the finer points of etiquette.”

Desperately, Renji tried to pull himself back together. The con must go on. “I can get mail through the Squad 6 main office,” he offered as helpfully as he could manage. Oh, shit. Was she trying to match him up with her nieces? Why would she do such a thing? He thought the Kuchikis regarded him as trash. Did she not know that he had no money (but yes, bankai)? Maybe Rukia would be able to help him sort it out. 

“Good day, Aunt,” Byakuya dismissed, as Head Servant Guy escorted Azami out. The old dude was sure to get an earful on the way to the front door.

Renji let out a long, slow breath. 

Byakuya regarded him coolly for a moment. Renji squirmed. No good deed ever went unpunished. Here it came. “Were you raised by a roving troupe of itinerant thespians, Abarai?”

“Come again?” Renji leaned forward slightly.

“Do you have theatrical training? What _was_ that?” Wait. Was Byakuya… impressed?

“Ohhh…” Renjii drew out slowly. _Well, you see, sir, your sister and I used to engage in a fair amount of confidence artistry,_ he imagined himself explaining. Instead, he just mumbled, “I just, y’know. Know how people are.”

Byakuya threw up his hands. “Aunt Azami is not _people!_ ”

Renji shrugged helplessly.

Byakuya huffed. “In any case… thank you. For your assistance. That went far better than I anticipated.”

Renji stared at him, taken aback. Nearly a year of working his ass off, training, doing paperwork, dancing around this guy's humongous ego, and what was it that had finally scored him a point with his boss? His old grifter’s ability to fleece the aged. Renji's stomach twisted. “It was nothin’, Captain. Don’t mention it.”

The captain's face hardened. “It was not nothing, and you did not do it as my adjutant. You did it as a favor and I am expressing my appreciation.”

Renji’s stomach twisted _harder_. “You’re welcome. Sir.”

“That’s better.” Byakuya frowned. “The… bit at the end. She should not have pressed the matter in front of you. It was very rude. I would appreciate it if you did not mention it to Rukia. If you could forget it yourself, that would be for the best.”

Renji hesitated. He was still feeling extremely lucky that Rukia had forgiven him after the last secret he had kept from her. But this seemed different. This actually seemed like something she would rather not know anything about. “Yes, sir,” he finally replied.

Byakuya’s face was twisted into a consternated grimace. Was Byakuya mad at him? He couldn’t tell. Renji didn’t know what to do, so he just waited. Finally, Byakuya burst out with, “Just so you know, I would never make such arrangements for Rukia without her knowledge. It is not my intent to keep her in the dark, but it is trying enough that I should have to deal with this nonsense. If I ever received an offer that I thought was worth her consideration, I would certainly share it with her.” Byakuya looked absolutely horrified at having just said that out loud.

“I know you want the best for her,” Renji reassured him, and to his surprise, he meant it.

This appeared to confuse and stymy Byakuya further. His face cycled through a number of contortions that certainly didn’t resemble a normal person having normal emotions. Finally, he managed to wrestle himself back into a more familiar mode: I Am Saddled with This Terrible Adjutant and I Do Not Care For It. 

“Why are you still here?” Byakuya demanded. “Surely you have heavy objects to hoist aloft or delinquencies to engage in! Go home and wash that mess off your face!”

“I’m actually gonna go home and put more on,” Renji replied without thinking, circling a finger in the general vicinity of his eyes. Oh, _fuck_ , why did he always _say_ things like that?

“I don’t want to know anything about it,” Byakuya grumbled. “I do not wish to see you again until Monday.”

“Done and done,” Renji agreed.

* * *

Rukia looked through her collection of non-formal kimonos. She knew she had one with a wave motif around here somewhere. She heard a soft tap at her door, followed by her maid's familiar "Lady Rukia?"

"Come in!" Rukia called.

"Good evening, miss!" Mikan greeted cheerfully. "Are you still planning to go out tonight? Do you need any help getting ready?"

Have you seen my blue kimono that has the waves across the bottom?" Rukia sighed exasperatedly. She turned, and as soon as she caught sight of the horrified look on Mikan's face, realized her mistake. "I can explain."

"Your Ladyship doesn't need to explain anything," Mikan replied, her voice wavering slightly. She reached past Rukia and retrieved a kimono from the closet, exactly the one Rukia had just spent fifteen minutes trying to find. It was greenish-blue at the top, which she had forgotten, fading into a rich blue at the hem.

"A friend of mine-- a friend of a friend, really, wanted to do my makeup for fun, y'know?” Rukia excused. Ugh, she had offended her maid, and now the girl was going to _leave_ , and she’d be back to square one, why couldn’t she ever manage to keep a maid for more than a few months? “And I said okay, of course, as a favor. I was thinking maybe I should wash it off before I go out, it's a little silly--"

"It's stunning," Mikan stopped her. "Your friend-of-a-friend is very talented.” She frowned. If I may ask… who does she work for?”

Rukia stared at her maid blankly before putting it together. “You think I had someone else’s maid do this? No! I would never do that! No, it was a shinigami friend! A guy, actually.”

“Oh.” Mikan took a deep breath. “Lady Rukia, do you want me to learn how to do that sort of makeup? Because I will!” Her voice was wavering.

“It’s not really necessary,” Rukia reassured her. “This isn’t really my usual thing.”

Mikan did not look particularly reassured.

Normally, Rukia would have used this opportunity to duck out of the conversation. But she thought about all the things she had been learning about leadership, about running a squad that got along and dealt with its problems. Suddenly, she was determined that she was not going to let this maid disappear quietly one day with no explanation.

“Mikan, are you happy here? Why are you so nervous around me all the time? Please answer me honestly.”

Mikan twisted her hands. “You see, miss, my previous employer was an elderly woman. It was a very quiet post. Mostly, I took care of her cat.”

“I guess you must find me to be a bit much, eh?” Rukia smiled sympathetically. What a change, going from that to a charge who came home with black eyes and spent her time drinking with roughnecks.

“Oh, miss, I think you’re the most exciting person I’ve ever met!” Mikan clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked at herself.

Rukia blinked at her. “Really?”

Slowly, Mikan lowered her hands. “You’re so pretty, miss, and a shinigami! And you speak so boldly to your Lord Brother, and his adjutant treats you as an equal! And I heard that you’ve been to so many places, Outer Rukongai, the Living World, Hueco Mundo! I’m doing my best miss, but I’m just a simple girl!”

Rukia was at a loss. “You think I’m cool?”

Mikan’s cheeks colored. “Yes, miss.”

Rukia laughed. “Oh, Mikan, I am basically a disaster. I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but without a good maid at my back, I would be a perpetual embarrassment, if I’m not already. You’re doing fine. Just relax a little. I really, really don’t want you to quit.”

“I don’t want to quit, either, miss!” Mikan gasped. “You need to get ready! Oh! Oh! You get undressed and put that kimono on! I’ll be right back to help with the obi!”

Rukia wondered where Mikan was off to, as she shed her shihakushou and pulled on the crisp cotton kimono. It looked gorgeous with her makeup. She felt a little silly about it, but she was a little bit excited about looking good in a way that was much more personal than just being wrapped into the most expensive kimono possible.

Mikan returned waving a hair clip decorated with clusters of pearls. “I found it! What do you think?”

Rukia was torn. “Oh, I like it, but my hair is a mess on purpose, you see.”

“I know what beach hair is,” Mikan said shyly, and then, almost conspiratorially added, “I sometimes read magazines.” With a deft hand, swept up one side of Rukia’s hair into a twist and secured it with the clip. She held up a hand mirror for Rukia’s approval. Somehow, she had managed to make the hairstyle look even more haphazardly beautiful.

“Oh,” Rukia smiled. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Now turn around, let’s get that obi tied,” Mikan smiled back.

* * *

Byakuya stood in the front hallway, waiting for the carriage to be pulled around, when Rukia dashed in. 

“Ah! Brother!” she exclaimed, stopping short. 

Byakuya stared at her, utterly at a loss. 

He had seen Rukia dressed up many times, for formal events. He had ensured that her wardrobe was of the highest quality and the latest fashion. Her hair and makeup was always impeccable, and although he didn’t make it a point to read them, he knew that her style was well regarded by the periodicals that tended to cover the lifestyle of the nobility.

This was different.

Her face was a sea of blues and greens, her eyes huge and violet amidst the blur of color. It wasn’t even coherent as makeup. She looked like some sort of fey creature from the yokai realms, hair wild and eyes aglitter.

She looked absolutely nothing like her sister.

She looked gorgeous. 

“Are you going out?” Rukia asked. 

“Er, yes,” he replied. “A business gathering at the Kasumiohji compound. It should be very dull.”

“Please give Lady Rurichiyo and Lord Shuu my regards,” Rukia said warmly.

“I shall. Are you… also… going out?” Byakuya asked, his voice slow and measured. “That is not a very formal kimono." Hastily, he added, "It is attractive, though."

“Just with some friends,” Rukia excused, looking at the floor.

“Lieutenant Abarai’s horrible compatriots, again?” Byakuya asked with an arched eyebrow.

“No, my horrible compatriots, actually,” Rukia replied. “You know Yuki Rikichi, right? He’s in your squad?”

“Small fellow? Follows Abarai around?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He’s started dating my friend Yamada Hanatarou.”

Byakuya wracked his brain. “Even smaller fellow? Tried to fight me once? And then Captain Unohana saddled me with him in Hueco Mundo?”

“That’s the one,” Rukia agreed. “Rikichi is really punching above his weight, eh?”

Byakuya blinked at her, uncomprehending.

“Anyway, the Kotetsu sisters will be there, and Renji, of course, and some guys from Squad 12…”

“Squad 12?” Byakuya frowned. 

“I shouldn’t be too late!” She paused a moment, looking at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to the Kasumiohji thing?”

“Go be with your horrible compatriots,” Byakuya insisted. 

Rukia smiled at him, a beautiful smile that split her face and crinkled the corners of her eyes. “See you tomorrow, Brother! Don’t get into too much trouble!”

As Rukia departed, Byakuya could almost feel the phantom tug at his elbow. “My baby sister! She looks so lovely, doesn’t she, Byakuya? Oh, your poor adjutant! No wonder she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

“Perhaps we should make her accompany us to the Kasumiohjis’, after all,” he would reply dryly, if there were actually someone there, which of course, there was not.

And then Hisana would laugh and laugh at him, her voice like bells. 

“The carriage is ready, my Lord,” Seike announced. “Er, is something the matter?”

“Hmm?” he replied.

“You are, ah. Smiling.”

“Am I?” Byakuya replied, surprised. “Imagine that.”

* * *

Rukia made her way through the crowded streets of the Slackwater Lock neighborhood. It was just west of the Market District, and bordered the canal that many merchants used to transport their goods into the Seireitei. It was one of the trendier parts of the city, full of shops and restaurants. The crowd was turning over from daytime shoppers to the evening crowd of bar-goers, and Rukia realized that her makeup, which had seemed outlandish at home, was not at all out-of-place here. She found herself receiving a few appreciative looks and one rather infuriating wolf-whistle.

Fortunately, Rukia had picked her friends well, and she easily spotted Isane and Renji’s distinctive hair colors bobbing above the crowds. 

Rikichi spotted her first. "Rukia's here!"

Rukia abruptly found herself in the comfortable press of a Hanatarou hug. "Rukia, you made it! I'm so happy!" 

"Of course I made it!" Rukia scoffed. "I take full credit for all of this! If I hadn't nearly gotten executed, you two never would have gotten together!"

"Ahem!" Renji interrupted indignantly. "I believe they had their official meet-cute while scraping _my_ bloodied carcass out of the gutter, thank you."

"You both get credit," Hanatarou replied warmly, drawing back. "Oh, Rukia, you look so cute!"

"So do you!" Rukia exclaimed back. Hanatarou had his hair pulled up in a half-ponytail. Instead of his usual baggy shihakushou, he had on a blue-grey kimono that better fit his slim frame.

"That's for sure," Rikichi agreed, slinging an arm around his new boyfriend. Hanatarou smirked back at him, and for good reason.

"Renji said you guys were turning up, but… wow," Rukia commented. "Looking good, Rikichi."

"Thanks!" Rikichi replied with confidence of a person who knows, for a fact, that they _do_ look good. He had a flawless smokey eye, silver, fading to pink at the edges. His skin was glowing and dewy with an adorable smattering of faux freckles across his cheeks. A few pale pink streaks had been sprayed into his hair. He looked like one of those Living World pop idols that Yuzu was so into, and moreover, he was actually pulling it off. 

"Who did your makeup, you or Abarai?" Kiyone teased.

"It was _mostly_ me!" Rikichi protested.

"It's true, I was just there for consulting purposes."

Rukia turned to look up at the man whose face she had shoved into the mud numerous times throughout their childhood, and promptly did a double-take. "Holy _shit_ ," she murmured.

Instead of his usual severe, spiky ponytail, Renji's hair was gathered loosely into a sloppy, half-assed bun that must have taken at least an hour to get looking so lazily perfect. He had foregone his customary bandana, and glimpses of his forehead tattoos were visible through the artfully messy drape of his hair. Broad patches of white smeared the inner corners of his eyes, almost up to the bridge of his nose. His lids were a sunset of gold and orange, edging into the same bright red as his hair toward the outer crease and up at his brow bone. The jagged stripes of his tattoos were echoed in his heavy eyeliner. Rukia was pretty sure he had contoured his cheekbones, but it was done so skillfully, she couldn't be sure.

The effect was breathtaking. Renji was always good-looking, in a goofy, gym rat sort of way. During their first stint in the World of the Living--the one she could remember, he had spent most of his time in a tight jeans and leather jacket ensemble that was so distracting, it probably should have been illegal, not that Rukia was complaining. But this… This was _something else._ He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of her romance novels. He looked like a sleepy jungle cat who had just woken from a nap and was contemplating whether or not he wanted to go for a hunt. He was a _smokeshow_.

Rukia hadn't even registered what he was wearing, maybe it was something horrible. He eyes drifted southward, got far enough to notice that he had tied his kimono _very loosely_ , and _oh, boy, pec tattoos!_ and her eyes snapped back up to meet his. 

Renji had always had sort of beady eyes. As a teen, they had made him look mean and ratty, especially with his perpetual sour grimace. These days, he smiled a lot more often, and he had enough other attractive features to make up for it. But all the eye makeup made his eyes look bigger and wilder, their usual dark brown tinted a rich red. This was absolutely unfair. He needed to have his little beady rat eyes, because right now, Rukia was so hot for him, she thought she was going to _die_. 

What was he thinking? Rukia’s thoughts suddenly turned angry. He was lucky Rikichi hadn’t passed out from a nosebleed. If this doofus fucked up Hanatarou’s big romance...

Then, Renji flashed her a grin, showing off those canines of his that were so pointy they almost looked like fangs, and Rukia resolved firmly not to save his life the next time she had an opportunity to do so. That should teach him to do this to her and Rikichi both. Well, probably not, actually, as he would be dead, but it was the _principle_ of the thing.

"I was worried you'd go straight home and wash it off," he said, but his voice had no sting in it, and she realized, with a flip of her stomach, that she was disarming him just as much as he was disarming her.

"I should have," she sniffed. "Would have served you right."

"Yumi sent me some pictures," he pointed out softly. "They're nothin' compared to the real thing, though."

"You _should have_ told us you were going all in," Kiyone groused, waving her hands about and snapping Rukia out of her addlement. "It took me an hour just to convince Isane to wear _lip gloss!"_

Isane blew air out of her cheeks self-consciously.

"I didn't know!" Rukia excused. "Renji tricked me!"

"I think you and Isane both look very nice, Kiyone!" Hanatarou put in cheerfully. 

"Hey everybody! I brought treats!"

"Rin's here!" Rikichi beamed. "Hey, Rin!"

"I can't believe you guys finally got together!" Rin exclaimed, running up. He was wearing a kimono patterned with bright flowers, and instead of his usual front ponytail, his hair was swept up in the back and pinned in place with a number of cute kanzashi shaped like little bugs. "I was so excited, I made cupcakes! They're like cakes, but tiny!"

Renji's face went pale green.

"Greetings, jocks, 'sup?" Akon ambled up, carrying a flat box covered with foil.

"Hey there, nerdboy," Rukia returned. "Glad you could make it."

Akon regarded Renji with a skeptical expression. "You okay, Abarai?"

"I hate cake," Renji croaked. “Tiny or otherwise.”

"Yeah, I’ve seen under this foil and there's no way I'm eating one of these fucking nightmares,” Akon agreed, looking down at his box. “We'll stick together on this."

"Thanks, man," Renji sighed gratefully.

Akon gave Renji a brief, clinical once-over. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at Renji’s exposed chest.

Renji seemed to have bounced back from his pastry-based trauma. “No, you see, I’m so sexy right now, if I don’t ventilate, I get overheated.”

“Fair," Akon acknowledged.

“‘Fair’?” Rukia exploded. “That was utter bullshit! You’re a scientist! You gotta call him on that!”

“Look, I really don’t go in for humanoid anatomy, myself. I’m pretty sure Abarai here is my objectively sexiest friend, so I’m gonna rely on him for subject matter expertise on this kind of thing.”

“Yesssss!” Renji pumped his fist.

Rukia slapped herself in the forehead. “Why did you have to say that? He’s going to be _unbearable_ ,” she sighed. 

Akon was wearing a pretty low-key kimono-and-hakama ensemble, but it fit better than his habitual baggy lab coat, and Rukia was surprised to notice that he was actually kinda well-built. He had traded out his usual thick black eyeliner for bright blue, and had colored the tips of his horns the same color. 

“You clean up pretty nice, yourself, Akon," Rukia appraised. "I sort of expected you to be all in black, with, y’know, sad-boy makeup.”

“I can do that at work,” he shrugged.

“What do you use to paint your horns?” she asked, curiously.

“Nail polish,” he replied.

“They are very sexy,” Renji appraised.

“Shut up,” Rukia grumbled.

“Hey, we’re all here, are we ready to go in?” Kiyone called.

“I’m starving!” Rikichi added. 

As Renji turned to follow the others inside, Rukia caught his sleeve and held him back. "What's the big idea, dumbass?"she hissed. "What were you thinking, showing up looking this hot?"

Renji cracked a flirty grin at her. "You're one to talk, sparkle eyes."

Rukia was sure her cheeks were bright pink. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?" Renji asked, his grin turning to a confused frown.

"Do you honestly not know that Rikichi has a huge honking crush on you?" Rukia hissed.

Renji blinked. "Aw, c'mon, Rukia, he just looks up to me a little."

"You _dunderhead!"_ Rukia scolded. "That guy has the most open, obvious crush on you I have ever seen! He hangs on to every word you say! He'll do anything you tell him to! _He got a brow tattoo!_ How could you possibly not have noticed?!"

Rukia had expected Renji to make excuses, or to go into his bashful mode, rubbing the back of his neck and staring off into the sky, but instead, he just scrutinized her face for a long moment. Rukia squirmed under his gaze-- what the hell did this have to do with _her_?

"Maybe you're right," Renji said finally. "I am a dunderhead, that part's true, for sure." He put his hand on the small of her back. "He didn’t seem all that interested in me tonight, for some reason. Come with me. Let’s go see if we can figure it out." He steered her into the restaurant, where their friends were sorting out who was going to sit where. Renji hung back a few yards.

While Kiyone and Rin argued over who had to slide into the back corner, Hanatarou touched the ends of Rikichi's hair and said something to him. Rikichi's face lit up, his nose crinkling cutely. Hanatarou's face abruptly reflected the same joy back at him.

"Hmm, I think I missed my chance, eh?" Renji said gently.

Rikichi abruptly leaned in, grabbing Hanatarou's hand, and kissing him on the cheek. Akon and Isane both caught it, attempted to look away, and ended up staring at each before frantically spinning off in opposite directions.

It was such a small thing, such a normal, everyday act, and it shattered Rukia's heart to pieces.

Because this is what it was supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to get adopted by the noblest family in Soul Society. Renji worked hard, he had always worked hard, but he wasn't supposed to spend forty years driving himself into the ground in order to make lieutenant. Captains weren't supposed to rebel and declare war on the Soul King and human teenagers weren't supposed to see the shinigami that walked into their rooms in the middle of the night.

Rukia should have earned a seat by now, even if it wasn't a high one. Or maybe, over forty years, she and Renji would have brought out the best in each other. Maybe he would have helped her with her zanjutsu and she would have helped him with his kidou, while their reiatsu slowly settled into the comfortable synchronization of longtime comrades-in-arms. Maybe they would be in the same squad, constantly jostling for the same seats, challenging each other to get better. Maybe she would grab his hand in a crowded restaurant and he would plant a sweet kiss on her cheek when he thought no one was watching. Maybe they'd share accommodations, filled with stinky futsal gear instead of houseplants. Maybe instead of Kuchiki, she'd have managed to trade in "Inuzuri" for a different surname by now.

Rukia tried unsuccessfully to swallow down the thick lump in her throat. Renji's fingers dug uncomfortably into her back, and she glanced up at him. She didn't know what she had expected to see on his face, but certainly not the same lost, desperate expression that was surely painted all over her own. He looked down at her, and for a fraction of a second, understanding passed between them. And then, they both broke into nervous smiles, fumbling to get the masks back in place.

The restaurant was loud, and Renji spoke softly; she probably wouldn't have even been able to hear him if his voice wasn't the one thing she could always pick out of a cacophony. "I'm sorry, Ru. Just be patient with me, please."

"Shan't," Rukia declared loudly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards their friends. "C'mon. I'm starving and everyone will wonder why we're being weirdos."

"No one will wonder," Renji pointed out, and, as always, followed.

~end part 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I read an article on "BTS's Best Makeup Looks" for this chapter because I don't actually know anything about make-up, particularly for dudes. I don't even listen to kpop. This is what I do for you, my readers, because I love you.  
> 2) I SWEAR I wrote this chapter before I read Gideon the Ninth. Sunglasses + skull make-up is just such a galaxy brain idea that Tamsyn Muir and I arrived at it independently. I am exceedingly fond of my shinigami-wear-excessive-eyeliner-as-minimalist-skull-facepaint headcanon, you will pry it from my cold, dead fingers. If you haven't read Gideon the Ninth, you probably should, it's tremendous. It's got a real ByaRen (or possibly ByaIchi) vibe if Byakuya and Renji were angry teen lesbians solving necromancy puzzles in a haunted space castle.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia takes her exam.

* * *

* * *

"Hey, Captain?"

Byakuya glanced at the clock. It was 5:01pm. "Are you departing for the day, Lieutenant?"

"In a minute. I had something I wanted to ask you first." 

"Is there a reason you waited until your Leisure Hours before asking?" Byakuya asked suspiciously. 

"Well, this is less of a lieutenant-to-captain sort of question and more of a Rukia's-best-friend-to-Rukia's-brother sort of question," Abarai explained, his face very sincere.

Against his better judgement, Byakuya replied, "Go on."

"I don't 'spose, sir, you have much recollection of the night after you took your exam?"

_The Kuchiki dining room, the tension so thick you could cut it with a zanpakutou._

_Grilled eel with sanshou pepper, his favorite dinner. A reward._

_His grandfather, picking apart every point he had missed, calling him lazy, conceited._

_His father, offering gentle counterpoints, returning again and again to the record he had broken._

_Guilt, coiled hot and heavy in his gut. He had_ not _tried hard. So what? Why should he bother, between a grandfather who could never be pleased and a father who could never be disappointed?_

"Ah, sir?" Abarai prompted and Byakuya realized he had left too long a silence.

"No, of course not. It was over a century ago."

"Right. Well, I sure remember mine, sir, it was the worst. Everyone left me alone for once, 'cause they figured I was tired, which I was, but I couldn't fall asleep, just worrying about what I mighta screwed up. Next day, of course, I found out I'd passed, and all my friends took me out drinking to celebrate, but that one night was just torture." He paused, as if wrestling with whether or not to include the final detail. "Also, I fell asleep at the bar and everyone drew on my face."

Byakuya frowned at him. “You are aware, I hope, that your exam scores were one of the major reasons I hired you? I was given to understand that you have some degree of notoriety among the lieutenants for breaking the mechanics of the exam down to an exact science? Surely, you must have known that you passed comfortably.”

Renji looked a little sheepish. “You can know, but you don’t know until you know, sir.”

How did Rukia _stand_ this man?

“So, in any case, I was wondering what nice thing you got planned for Rukia tomorrow night. To keep her mind off it.”

Byakuya stared at him blankly. 

Abarai waved his hands, backpedaling frantically. “I mean, you don’t actually gotta tell me what it is! I just wanted to make sure you had plans of some sort, sir. She doesn't seem like it, but she frets about this stuff, too, she’ll make herself nuts. Or if you don’t have anything planned, I can take care of it, I just thought, you being her brother and being so proud of her--”

“Of course I have plans,” Byakuya snapped. 

“Great,” Renji replied cheerfully, instantly relaxing, a smile spreading over his face. “It’s gonna mean a lot to her, y’know. She really looks up to you.”

She. Really. Looks. Up. To. You.

It was like all the spiritual pressure had fallen out of his body onto the floor. 

This stupid man, this idiot musclehead, this… peasant, this _person_ whom his sister went to in her times of joy and in her times of distress. How dare he! How-- how--! How was he still _talking_ , when he had just knocked the very core out of Byakuya’s being?

“We're carb-loading tonight, but you’re in charge of breakfast tomorrow, okay? Something with protein.”

Byakuya found himself nodding stupidly. “There’s something with egg that she likes?”

“Yeah, egg rice, she likes it with hot sauce. Also… make sure she goes to bed on time.”

“My sister is not a child,” Byakuya pointed out hotly. 

“No, of course not,” Renji replied, unperturbed by this. “But it’s not like there’s much we can do to help at this point, and remindin’ her to take care of herself is how we let her know that we got her back.”

Byakuya opened his mouth to inform this buffoon that he was being much too presumptuous, and then closed it again. Abarai cared very deeply about Rukia. That was all. There were plenty of things he could criticize the man for, but this would not be one of them. “Go make my sister dinner, Lieutenant,” he said instead. “I will have her ready tomorrow morning.”

Renji bobbed his head eagerly. “Thanks, sir, I knew I could count on you! See you tomorrow!” 

Byakuya frowned as Abarai shut the office door on his way out.

Egg rice, indeed.

* * *

“Rukia,” Renji warned, “I am cutting you off.”

“Noooooo!” Rukia wailed, hugging a jar labeled “Rukia’s Pickles” to her chest.

“Half a jar of very spicy pickles is enough for a girl who has an important test to take tomorrow,” he cautioned her.

“They will make me very fast,” Rukia glared at him.

He glared back at her. “Give me the jar.”

Rukia made a grumbling noise. “Can I have some of your pickles?”

Renji laid a protective hand on his jar, which was labeled “Renji’s Pickles.” “No.”

“C’mon, yours look really good!”

“They aren’t spicy.”

“I like non-spicy pickles, too, you know. It’s fukujinzuke, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

They stared at each other.

“How come,” Rukia said slowly, “in the pickle cabinet, there were twelve jars labeled ‘Renji’s Pickles’ and only eleven jars labeled ‘Rukia’s Pickles.’”

Renji swore colorfully. “Why are you like this? Why do you notice _everything?_ ”

“Because otherwise people try to swindle me out of my well-deserved pickles!"

“Okay, okay! Remember when you said that one of the downsides of me being your brother’s adjutant was that sometimes I was gonna end up stuck between the two of you?”

Rukia arched an eyebrow. “This is not where I expected this to go.”

“Your last jar of pickles is in the office. He scratched out your name and wrote ‘Captain Kuchiki’s Pickles’ on it.”

“Renji!” Rukia howled, laughing. “Why did you even tell him you were making pickles?!”

“I needed him to taste test!” Renji howled back. “You know I can’t eat that stuff!”

Rukia had to lay her head on the table, she was laughing so hard. “Oh, you guys are so cute. The cutest!”

“We are not,” Renji scowled. “We are whatever the opposite of cute is.”

“Adorable? Is that the opposite of cute? Because that’s what you two are.”

“No. That is incorrect.”

“Ohhhhhh, why did you make me eat so much rice?” Rukia wheezed. “My tummy hurts.”

“Carbs! You need carbs! The exam is _really long_ and you’re going to need the energy. You can take snacks and a water bottle, you know, don’t forget.”

Rukia sat up and made a very serious face. “What kind of snacks would you recommend, Lieutenant?” she asked, trying and failing to make an extremely serious face. 

“I already packed your snacks, don’t worry about it.”

Rukia lost it again. 

“I am glad to see you don’t appear to be nervous,” Renji sighed.

“Too full of rice. No room for nervousness.”

“You’re gonna do great, Ru,” Renji said softly.

“I know,” she replied arrogantly. She crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin atop her pickle jar. "Hey, Renji?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember that day, back in Inuzuri, when we decided to come here? When I said I had heard life was pretty nice in the Seireitei?"

Renji rested his chin on one hand so that their faces were roughly level. "Yeah," he said gently. "I do."

"Do you think this is it? This is our nice life?"

"It's a pretty nice life, I think," Renji declared. "And it seems to be getting nicer all the time."

"Yeah," Rukia agreed. "I think so, too."

Renji sat up and slid his pickle jar across the table. "Here you go. I'm sorry I gave your pickles to your brother. I guess I gotta make three batches next time."

"I do like it when you two are nice to each other, you know," Rukia smiled, unscrewing the lid. "And don't think I don't know who always ends up doing the heavy lifting in that relationship."

"I don't know if I've ever told you this," Renji said conspiratorially, "but lifting heavy things happens to be a specialty of mine."

"Nope," Rukia replied, cramming her mouth full of fukujinzuke. "I don't think you've ever mentioned it."

* * *

Rukia wasn’t sure exactly what to expect when she walked into the dining room at a quarter to six in the morning.

When she had returned to the manor the previous evening, Byakuya had been waiting for her with a pot of chamomile tea and a book of poetry. “When her illness kept your sister up at night,” he had explained, “she used to ask me to read this to her. I would like to read it to you.”

The poem was about the moon. Or possibly chrysanthemums. Or possibly the arrogance of man. The tea was lovely and warm, and Rukia was very, very full of rice, and Byakuya’s voice was gentle and rhythmic and her eyes were drifting slowly…

“Rukia?”

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up straight.

“Would you like to go to bed?” he was asking.

“Oh, Brother, I am so sorry,” she managed. “I’ve been training so hard, and Renji fed me all these carbs and--”

“Rukia,” he cut her off. “That was the intent.”

She blinked at him blearily.

“Your sister used to ask for this poem because it is very long and very boring,” he clarified. “You need to get a good night’s sleep. I was helping.”

“Oh!” Rukia replied, relieved. “Yes. Wow, yes, you were helping!”

“Good night, Rukia,” Byakuya had said. “Will quarter to six be early enough for breakfast?”

Rukia screwed up her face. She was too tired for math. “Yeah, that should be fine.”

“I would like to see you off in the morning, if I may. We will have breakfast together?”

“Yeah!” Rukia had agreed sleepily. “That sounds great.”

And now, here she was, at 5:45 a.m., wondering if her brother had been replaced by some sort of mod soul.

“Good morning, Sister!” he greeted cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Rukia replied, taking her seat. A servant placed a cup of tea and a bowl of hot rice in front of her. 

“Excellent! Have you done any stretching? I am not a huge proponent of stretching myself, but Lieutenant Abarai insists the men do it and I know you subscribe to many of his ideas.”

“I don’t subscribe to them, I just do them so he’ll shut up,” Rukia explained, squinting sleepily at her bowl. “And I have the written part in the morning, I don’t think stretching is going to help.”

“It couldn’t hurt, I suppose. Blood flow to the brain, etcetera.”

Rukia continued staring into her bowl. “It’s egg rice,” she finally said. “You made me egg rice.”

“I did not make it, obviously. I merely arranged for its presence.”

She looked over at his place. “You’re having egg rice, too?”

“I hear it is good with hot sauce,” he said loftily. “Which reminds me.” He plunked a familiar bottle with the label peeled off in front of her. “You should try this. It is superlative.”

Rukia shook a generous dollop of secret mess hall hot sauce onto her egg and passed it back. Byakuya observed her carefully, and deposited a similar amount in his own bowl. Rukia took a big bite and closed her eyes. No matter what happened today, her heart felt so, so full.

“Is there anything you need?” Byakuya asked. “Would you like me to quiz you on anything?”

“I am as ready as I’m going to be,” Rukia replied. “But thank you. For all of this.”

“Then I will simply wish you luck,” Byakuya noted. “And eat this egg.”

Luck. Heh. Unlike some superstitious dummies who felt the need to preface every activity with some sort of silly ritual, Rukia made her own luck. Pfft.

“How is it?” she asked.

Byakuya chewed contemplatively. “It is very… rustic.” 

* * *

Renji racked his barbell with a satisfied snort. He sat up, wiped his face and shoulders with a towel, and checked the time. 6:43 am, two minutes since the last time he checked. The gym was empty, aside from himself. He sighed. In 17 minutes, Rukia would start her exam. Absolutely nothing to be nervous about, not like it was _his_ exam. He’d already passed _his_ exam. Then, there was a slight noise and he looked over to see a familiar shape silhouetted in the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he exclaimed. “You got an exam to take!”

“I got fifteen minutes to get there!” Rukia shouted back. “And I need your help!”

“What is it?” he asked, crossing the room, immediately on high alert. “What’s wrong?”

Rukia screwed up her face. “What’d you do for luck? Before you took yours?”

“Luck?” he echoed blankly.

“Come _on!_ You know a thousand dumb cheers and handshakes and crap like that. You made us do a _chant_ before we split up in Las Noches!”

“I’m not sure that actually turned out for the best,” he frowned.

“We _lived_ , didn’t we?” Well, that was fair.

“I don’t know. About the exam. I think I drank a protein shake. Captain give you your eggy rice?”

Rukia blinked and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“You should be good to go, then.”

“C’mon, Renji, just come up with something for me, will you?”

“ _You_ c’mon. You studied your ass off. You could pass the _captain's_ exam right now if you took it.”

She glared at him.

He cringed. “I dunno, Ru, all the cheers I know are for… teams and stuff. They’re all for winning or not dying. I mean, I _hope_ you don’t die, but I ‘spose…” He was babbling. She had to go. He was going to make her late, if his dumb brain couldn’t come up with something, but he kept drawing a blank.

He came up with something.

Renji grabbed Rukia by the upper arms, leaned down, and kissed her hard on the lips. “There,” he said. “Good luck.”

“What was that?” she yelped. 

“Good luck kiss.”

“Is that a thing?”

He shrugged. “Well… I guess we’ll find out, right? Depending on if you pass or not.”

Rukia wrinkled her nose. “So if I pass, that’s a thing that we do? For luck?”

“For luck, sure.” He threw a playful punch at her, and she swatted his hand away easily. “Go give ‘em hell.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled up at the edges, the face of a woman who would take on an Espada, the third seat of the Eleventh, and a whole gang of burly Rukongai thugs, all at once, if necessary. “Thanks, Renji. I will.”

* * *

Rukia skidded into the offices of the Eighth at 6:59 am.

Nanao was sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of tea and reading a novel. “Oh, good morning, Kuchiki! You look ready to go.”

“Give me that test,” Rukia announced. “I will murder it.”

* * *

Renji staggered into the office and set Zabimaru on their stand. 

He hadn’t slept particularly well the night before, surprise, surprise. He’d lifted. He’d made protein shakes with Rikichi. He’d run morning drills. He’d held an arm wrestling contest and beat seven of his seated officers in a row.

Maybe a cup of tea would be nice. Relaxing.

“Hey, captain, making some tea, you want…”

He trailed off when he noticed that Byakuya had four empty teacups lined up on his desk and was sipping nervously at a fifth one. He appeared to be vibrating.

“Abarai,” Byakuya said firmly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you want to fight?”

Renji thought about it briefly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They both grabbed for their swords.

* * *

“How do you feel?” Nanao asked as she and Rukia made their way through Squad 1 toward the Demonstration Grounds.

“I think the written part went well,” Rukia contemplated. “Kidou is next, right?”

“Kidou is next,” Nanao agreed.

Rukia nodded, patting the satchel slung over her shoulder. “I have my water bottle and some lemon drops. And some snacks to eat afterward.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Nanao agreed. She glanced at Rukia out of the corner of her eye. “Did Abarai pack them for you?”

“Yes,” Rukia muttered under her breath.

“We should all have an Abarai to get us through the Lieutenant’s Exams of life,” Nanao mused poetically. 

“I… guess so?” Rukia agreed.

Lieutenant Sasakibe was waiting for them, along with Captains Hitsugaya and Outoribashi.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Sasakibe!” Nanao barked. “I present to you Kuchiki Rukia, unseated, of the Thirteenth Division! She has completed the written portion of the Lieutenant’s Exam and is prepared to demonstrate her competence in the shinigami arts!”

Rukia bowed.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ise,” Sasakibe replied. “Ms. Kuchiki. You will now be evaluated on your skills in kidou, zanjutsu, hakuda, and hohou, as well your combat ability. Captains Hitsugaya and Outoribashi have agreed to act as your proctors, they will be judging your performance today.”

“Thank you, sirs!” Rukia announced. “I will do my best!”

Hitsugaya replied with a curt, serious nod; Outoribashi gave her a friendly smile.

“This demonstration is open to all captains and vice-captains who wish to attend,” Sasakibe pointed out. “They are here only to observe. If you find anyone’s presence to be a distraction, please let me know.”

Rukia glanced over to the sidelines. Her own captain waved gleefully at her. He was standing with Captain Kyouraku. Next to them was Brother, standing tall and stiff, a look of utter seriousness on his face. Next to _him_ was Renji, also standing tall and stiff, but with a big, stupid grin on his face. Next to him was Hisagi, who appeared to be chatting with… Captain Hirako? Sure. Why not?

“Captain Kyouraku is a distraction,” Nanao announced. “Please ask him to leave.”

“This isn’t your exam, Ise,” Sasakibe replied.

Nanao glowered.

Renji had asked Rukia ahead of time whether she wanted a crowd or not, and she had demurred. She wondered why Hisagi had decided to come anyway. She hoped this wasn't going to end up in next month's Bulletin. 

“The first demonstration will be kidou,” Lieutenant Sasakibe declared. He ran through the rules, which Rukia already knew well. “You will first demonstrate your bakudou. You are very fortunate, I managed to find some volunteers for you to bind, which is somewhat more satisfying than binding practice dummies.”

Rukia blinked. What sort of sucker would volunteer for such a thing?

There was a pounding of feet, and a familiar tangle of voices, and she realized exactly what kind of suckers would volunteer for such a thing.

“I get the odds! Rukia, cast the odds on me!”

“No way, I want to go first! Rukia, I will help you demonstrate how great you are at kidou!”

“Anyone could bind that big monkey! Rukia, I am here to help!”

“I have to cast them each twice,” Rukia reminded her third seats with a grin.

“Then do the no-chants on me!” Kiyone and Sentarou shouted in unison.

* * *

"Observe the control Rukia exerts over her developing kidou," Byakuya intoned. "She maintains almost precisely the same build of power in eishouhaki as when she uses the chants, but greatly sped up."

"Sublime, sir," Renji noted.

"Sublime, Lieutenant!" Byakuya declared.

"Your grandfather was very good at that, too, wasn't he, Byakuya?" Kyouraku scratched his head.

"No, it was Soujun," Ukitake corrected. 

"Was it?"

“Oh, for sure,” Rose agreed. “Don’t you remember the year he edged Hachi out in the Demon Arts Classic? They must have spent an hour complimenting each other afterwards.”

“I remember that, now!” Ukitake laughed. “The two nicest kidou practitioners you’d ever meet.”

“Yourself excepted,” Kyouraku winked at him.

"An elegant and noble skill, to be sure," Byakuya announced, looking mildly embarrassed. "Ah, Rukia is coming up on number #73, her best kidou. Let us observe in silence."

Everyone watched as Rukia chanted her way through _Souren Sokatsui_. Byakuya closed his eyes peacefully.

Hisagi leaned over and hissed in Renji's ear, "Is he gonna be like this the entire--?"

" _SILENCE_ , Someone Else's Lieutenant! Hirako, does he belong to you? Remove him, if you will!"

"Noooope," Captain Hirako replied, making no move to remove anyone.

There was a resounding _boom_ as Rukia's second cast of the spell hit the target.

"Exquisite,” Byakuya sighed.

“Exquisite, sir,” Renji agreed. 

* * *

Rukia was washing down a banana (fruit is good for quick blood sugar and potassium prevents leg cramps!!) with a thermos full of the worst tea in existence. It smelled like Byakuya’s secret formula orchid food (with maybe just a hint of yuzu?) and was surprisingly soothing on her throat. 

She’d made it up to _bakudou_ #81, and _hadou_ #77. She was happy with that.

“Will you be ready to go again in 5 minutes?” Nanao asked.

Rukia nodded eagerly. 

A motion on the sidelines caught her eye, and she turned to see Renji and Shuuhei laughing and punching each other in the shoulder while Byakuya glowered at them. Then Shuuhei stepped onto the field and strode over to say something to Nanao. Rukia noticed that he was carrying his zanpakutou. He’s my zanjutsu opponent, she realized. _That's_ why he's here.

Shuuhei had handled her Civics lessons-- she’d never actually fought him before. Nevertheless, this was still a pretty good draw for her. The first half of this demo would be with practice swords. Shuuhei trained a lot with Renji and Izuru, both of whom she _had_ fought. Renji had a stupidly long reach and was very aggressive; Izuru fought closer and with more circumspection. Aside from that, their style was fairly similar, up until they went to shikai. Shuuhei ought to fall somewhere in the middle of the two.

Once they went to live steel, it got dicier. Shuuhei’s shikai was notoriously nasty, she’d heard it had something of a mind of its own. That being said, in theory, it should be a lot like fighting Zabimaru-- she needed to keep her head up, think in three dimensions, and be ready to body rush Shuuhei as soon as he was over-extended. Rukia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took one last swig of tea. Yeah. She had this.

Nanao quickly ran through the format of the next exercise. It was similar to a kendo match, where they would try to score points on one another. Lieutenant Sasakibe would referee. There would be five rounds, regardless of who scored.

Rukia tried to run back through the advice Iba had given her on zanjutsu. This wasn’t a match, it was a demonstration. Hisagi was just here to give her something to push back against. Start defensive, Iba had said. Get a feel for your opponent. It’s not a big deal if you lose the first round.

Rukia and Hisagi faced each other, bokutou raised. Sasakibe gave the signal, and Hisagi immediately lunged toward her. Rukia parried, and returned to a defensive posture, rather than immediately counterattacking. He came up for a slash from the side. She parried this too, getting a feel for the weight of his blows. As she expected, they were strong, but controlled. After blocking his third strike, she attempted a riposte, aiming at a spot he seemed to leave open during his strikes. He blocked it handily with a slight smile. 

Rukia realized with a start that fighting him reminded her not so much of Kira or Renji, but of _Kaien_. He was fighting like an instructor, competent and confident, feeling out her skills. He thought he was going to herd her into making exactly the moves he wanted her to and then score on her, she was certain of it. 

Hisagi gradually became more aggressive, increasing the speed and frequency of his attacks. Rukia continued to skew defensive, but she did pepper in the occasional counter at the spots she could tell he was leaving open for her. She had just decided on the move she was going to make, when he slid his sword along the edge of hers, swinging it to the side. He pulled back and quickly tapped her in the arm.

“Point, Hisagi!” Sasakibe announced.

Rukia’s nostrils flared. Okay, she needed to be a little quicker about this. Lesson learned.

They reset their positions

This time, at the signal, Rukia pulled an Ikkaku-- pressing forward quickly and assertively, the bokutou clacking loudly against each other with every strike. Hisagi parried frantically, but she had taken him by surprise, and her blade slipped through, tagging him on the chest.

“Point Kuchiki!”

“Nice,” Hisagi appraised as they reset.

That would only work once, though. They both went into the third round zealously, trying to gain the more aggressive position. His sword blows were better, but Rukia’s footwork was superior. She changed direction as much as possible, forward, back, side-to-side, darting in and out of his range. Hisagi was a very solid swordsman, though, and left few openings. He continued steadily, not thrown by her fluttering misdirections. She let him herd her so that her weaker side was exposed to him, and then, as he went in for the hit, she whirled to the side, and thrust at him. To her surprise, his blade met hers, sweeping it upwards, and he scored a point against her thigh.

Rukia scowled.

“You learn that from Abarai, or he learn it from you?” Hisagi asked.

“He learned all his dirty tricks from me,” Rukia sniffed.

“That’s what I figured,” Hisagi grinned.

Rukia tried to push down her frustration. The points were only a small part of her score-- she was being judged on her form throughout this exercise, and it’s not like she was being humiliated. Even though she had improved a lot over the years, zanjutsu was still her weakest skill, and she didn’t need to get a perfect score on this, she reminded herself..

For the fourth round, Rukia let her arms and sword flood with as much reiatsu as she could, landing stinging, punishing blows against Hisagi’s bokutou. He pushed back against her with big, heavy blows of his own, but she fought Renji all the time, and was used to this shit. If Hisagi was, as well, he certainly wasn’t used to being pressed like this from someone so much shorter than him. He overbalanced and stumbled backward, and Rukia scored her second point as his butt slammed into the ground.

They lined up for the final round. She had scored points when she surprised him. What could she do next? She narrowed her eyes at him. Hisagi wagged his eyebrows back at her.

No. It was a terrible idea. 

But she had practiced so much, she was sure she could do it.

Renji would see straight through it. 

Hisagi wasn’t Renji.

She was gonna do it.

At the signal, Rukia let her body slip through the motions of her favorite of the Kuchiki offensive forms. It was a bold rush that left you very open, counting on your speed to carry you through your opponent's strike zone before they had a chance to react. It was risky, which was one of the things she liked about it. No time to think, run on auto, she reminded herself, pushing into a blur of motion.

“Point Kuchiki!”

Rukia skidded to a halt, blinking. 

“Wait, what happened?” Hisagi swung his head from side to side. He suddenly realized that Rukia was behind him, rather than in front of him. “Shit.”

Sasakibe cleared his throat irritably.

Rukia spun toward the sidelines. Renji looked gobsmacked. Her captain looked delighted. Byakuya’s face was inscrutable, but he gave her a slow nod. Rukia’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She couldn’t catch her breath.

She had done it. She had pulled off Kuchiki Swift Hare Offensive Strike #3.

And Byakuya had seen it.

Her brother had Witnessed her Glory.

“Your zanpakutou, Kuchiki?” Nanao’s voice came from a thousand miles away. As her fingers closed around Sode no Shirayuki’s sheath, she felt icy fingers tugging her back to the present. This was no time for emotions, she had a second half of this test to pass. She slipped the sheath into her sash.

“Ms. Kuchiki, when you are ready, please perform your sword release,” Lieutenant Sasakibe instructed her. 

Rukia put her hand on Sode no Shirayuki’s hilt, opening herself to her zanpakutou spirit. I know you said you don’t care about the lieutenant’s exam, she directed inwardly, but I would really appreciate your support. In a smooth motion, she stepped one foot back as she drew the blade, shouting out her release command. As her blade completed its revolution, she felt cold creep down her limbs and frost crackling over her hands. 

“As beautiful as they say,” Lieutenant Sasakibe commented mildly, making a mark in his notes. Then, louder, “Lieutenant Hisagi, you may release!”

“Reap, Kazeshini!”

Rukia turned to face Hisagi, holding Kazeshini's two scythes loosely. "You ready, Kuchiki?" he asked, adjusting his grip on the left one.

"Let's go," she agreed, breaking into a run as he hefted one of his blades and hurled it towards her.

A good general strategy for fighting Zabimaru, especially when you were fast, was to zigzag in and out-- to alternate between the length of their full extension, and close in. It took some time--not a lot, but enough-- for Renji’s sword to retract. The tricky part, the part that people who weren't Rukia tended to forget, was that Renji could also move, that neither end of Zabimaru was a fixed point. 

Kazeshini was even worse. Since there were two of them, Hisagi was always able to keep one close while the other was extended, or not, as he chose. There were _three_ moving points to watch out for.

Rukia rolled across the turf as the scythe came hurtling towards her. She swung the flat of her blade at its handle, hoping that she could send it crashing into the ground. Instead, Hisagi gave a strong jerk on the chain, pulling it back to him. Rukia hit the dirt as it sailed over her head on the return path. She hopped to her feet just in time to see the other one sailing toward her. She took off at a run, only to see its path curve to follow her. She flash-stepped to the side, just in time to avoid the spinning blades. 

There was no way Hisagi could control their movement physically with just the chain. He either had to be controlling his blades with his spiritual pressure, or perhaps it was true, his zanpakutou had a mind of its own. 

Hisagi caught the second scythe, and threw it again, but this time it went wide, like he wasn’t even trying to hit her. Whatever fresh hell this was, Rukia used the opportunity to close some of the ground between them. Suddenly, the scythe swung around behind her and then in front, and she realized it was wrapping around her. Renji had a similar trick, and Rukia recognized it for what it was, leaping out of the way immediately. From her aerial position, she saw the scythe complete its winding and tighten on thin air. She judged the radius of the loop, the timing of the full move. It didn’t look like Hisagi could stop it mid-stream. Renji had control of the full length of Zabimaru, but Hisagi could only throw the scythes, the chain just followed along. She could work with this. 

Rukia landed softly as Hisagi recovered his blades again. There were three moving parts, and a plan was starting to form in her head of how she could pin two of them. The only problem was that it was going to take three of her attacks in quick succession. That was tough, but if she could pull that off, she was sure that would score some major points with the judges. 

She needed him to try and snag her in the chain loop again, that was the key part. Maybe she would start out by making a pest of herself. She rushed him as his scythe was on its return trip. He caught it and pulled it up just in time to block her blow.

Hisagi’s scythes were big and very heavy, but he swung them around like they were nothing. Rukia was only able to take a few hits from him before she had to retreat again to a safer distance. He adjusted his grip slightly, and she had just enough time to get off a _hakuren_ before she was dodging sharp flying objects again. Hisagi flash-stepped out of the way of her avalanche handily. 

They continued on in this manner for a while, Rukia jumping and darting while he tossed his blades at her. She subtly started to slow her pace, and allowed a brief stumble as she barely made it out of a scythe’s path. Let him think he was tiring her out. It worked like a charm. His next throw went wide, as the chain began to wrap itself around her position, Rukia called out a _tsukishirou_ before leaping to the side. The vertical column of ice shot into the sky just as the chain tightened around it. Not quite realizing what had happened, Hisagi made to reel the chain back in, but it wouldn’t go anywhere, and he jerked forward awkwardly. Rukia stabbed her blade into the ground and shouted out “ _Juhaku!”_ A zigzag of ice shot across the ground, freezing his feet in place before he had a chance to jump out of the way. Hisagi started to swing his remaining scythe at the ice growing over his feet, trying to chip himself free. 

Rukia didn’t give him the chance. She bent her knees and pointed her sword at her opponent. “ _Second Dance!”_ she barked. _“Hakuren!”_

With a blast of cold air and a loud crash, there was now a large pile of ice where Hisagi had stood. 

Everything was silent for a moment. 

“The match goes to Kuchiki!” Sasakibe finally announced.

Rukia straightened up, and resheathed her sword. 

Nanao trotted up to Hisagi and knocked on the ice. “Lieutenant Hisagi?” When there was no response, she turned to Rukia. “Is he okay in there? Do you have any advice for getting him out?”

“I can help!” Renji’s voice wafted in from the sidelines. “This happens to me all the time!”

* * *

  
"The next demonstration will be hakuda," Lieutenant Sasakibe announced. He held out his arms, and Nanao dumped her notebooks into them. "Lieutenant Ise will administer this portion."

"You will demonstrate the 16 Advanced Katas, first taking the defensive role, and then again as the offense," Nanao explained, stretching her arms over her head. "We will then have a three minute spar."

Rukia nodded, wondering who her partner was supposed to be. Belatedly, it hit her what Lieutenant Saskibe had meant by _administer_. "Oh, I'm fighting _you!"_

Nanao laughed. "I always have to do the boring part of administering this exam. I decided I wanted to do one of the fun jobs for once."

"Oh-okay," Rukia stammered.

"I should warn you, though-- I told you I don't have a zanpakutou. It just means I've had to double down on my unarmed combat."

Rukia did not know _anything_ about Nanao's hakuda skills. She knew that the woman was downright terrifying at kidou, and was known for being merciless both to her subordinates _and_ her captain. Rukia would bet anything that a) Renji had never fought her and b) Renji was definitely going to try to fight her as soon as possible. Hmmph. Well, maybe for once, she could be the one to give _him_ some tips.

Some mats had been rolled out while everyone was getting Hisagi thawed out, and Rukia stepped onto one end.

"Are you ready to begin?" Nanao asked, reiatsu gathering around her.

"Come at me," Rukia challenged, digging her own reiatsu down through the mat into the earth below.

Nanao was charging toward her, the air around her thick and distorted from spiritual pressure. Rukia ducked down into the punch, throwing Nanao over her shoulder, and then pivoting. Nanao came up on her feet, and threw another punch, which Rukia turned aside. As they continued through the familiar motions of the kata, Rukia tried to get a bead on the lieutenant of the Eighth.

It was strange, actually, to be fighting someone close to her own height, or at least clos _er_ . Nanao still had seven inches on her, but that was a lot better than seven _teen_. Rukia had done most of her hand-to-hand fighting with Renji, and some with Omaeda. At this level, spiritual pressure meant a lot more than physical size, but Rukia had needed to invent some special techniques for when you couldn’t actually reach someone’s shoulder. Nevertheless, in terms of reiatsu, Nanao was just as strong and solid as either of those two goons.

Rukia had also paid her dues getting knocked into the ground by Yoruichi, but fighting Nanao wasn’t much like fighting Yoruichi, either. Yoruichi would never bother with a standard kata, for one, and for another, fighting Yoruichi was a lot like fighting the ocean or the concept of time. There was no analyzing it, you were just there, and she was there, and then you were lying on the floor with a concussion. 

No, Rukia thought, as they completed the first kata and returned to their starting positions. Nanao was as textbook as it came. Her moves were crisp and precise, backed up by absolute control over her reiatsu. The only person Rukia knew who fought like this was… her own brother.

Byakuya didn’t make dumb mistakes. Byakuya didn’t fall for dirty tricks. The only way to beat Byakuya was to get stronger or faster than him, which he ensured was an extremely difficult thing to achieve.

This was tricky. Rukia had always relied on outsmarting her opponents or had depended on having a heavy hitter at her back. But she wasn’t an underfed street kid anymore, or a lagging Academy student. She wasn’t in a reiatsu-sucking gigai. Nanao’s hits weren’t much harder than her own, and she wasn’t actually struggling to throw the woman or block her hits.

Nanao may be good at hakuda, Rukia reminded herself, but _so am I_. I know these moves. I practiced them a million times. I fought Ikkaku. I don’t need any dirty tricks. I can just… do this.

Unlike the zanjutsu round, she didn’t even need to _beat_ Nanao. She just needed to perform the kata correctly and then the spar was an opportunity to show off her moves in a more free-form setting. 

As Nanao came at her again, Rukia let herself stop thinking and just execute the moves, focusing on the flow of reiatsu through her body and the movements of her bones and muscles. Instead of her usual serious face, Rukia realized that Nanao was actually _smiling_. She was having fun. And Rukia smiled back, because she was having fun, too.

* * *

  
Renji watched as Nanao smoothly redirected and blocked yet another of Rukia’s kicks. “Have you ever fought her?” he pestered Shuuhei.

“N-n-noo,” Shuuhei replied, teeth chattering, pulling the blanket someone had found for him tighter around his shoulders.

“I am so jealous of Rukia right now,” Renji murmured. “Do you think Ise would fight me if I asked?”

“P-probably?” Shuuhei guessed.

“You might wanna keep it down,” Captain Hirako suggested, jerking his head toward the Captain of Squad 8. “I feel like he might not take kindly to it.”

“Ahhh, my beautiful Nanao!” Captain Kyouraku was wailing. “Be careful, Nanao! I don’t want anything to happen to your perfect face!”

“Nanao knows what she’s doing, Shunsui,” Ukitake kept trying to talk him down, to little avail. 

The women finished up the last of the standard kata and shook out their limbs as Lieutenant Sasakibe went over the rules for the sparring portion. Renji gave Shuuhei an encouraging slap on the shoulder, and stood up to get a better view. 

There were many things Renji loved about Rukia. He loved the way she cursed and drank and bullied teen boys. He loved the way she fought dirty, biting and cheating and tricking people and then hitting them with multiple ice attacks in a row, because she hated leaving a job half done. He was also deeply taken by fancy Rukia, with her haughty looks and noble accent and kimonos that he couldn’t even afford to _breathe_ near. But _this_ Rukia, he thought, as he watched his best girl sweep the feet of a vice-captain nearly a century older than her, was highly underrated. _This_ was the Rukia he was always trying to convey in his stories and could never quite manage to. Strong. Competent. Whip smart. Knowledgeable. Good at her fucking job. Good at _everything_. 

He glanced over at Hitsugaya and Outoribashi, who were standing a little ways away from everyone else. Outoribashi was talking quietly, but expressively, gesturing a lot. Hitsugaya gave a curt nod of agreement from time to time.

“She told me she was good at hakuda,” Byakuya mentioned absently.

Renji looked over at his boss, who had a strange look on his face. “She _is_ good at hakuda,” he pointed out. They gazed out at two women flawlessly executing an ancient fighting form, their reiatsu refracting the air around them into a viscous haze.

“I did not believe her at the time,” Byakuya continued. 

Renji couldn’t help it. “You shoulda seen her fight Ikkaku.” He braced for the reprimand, knowing that it had been worth it, but it never came.

“It would have been inappropriate for me to attend. I cannot condone such actions.”

For the first time in forty years, Renji realized that, in some ways, he had it better than Kuchiki Byakuya. He might be weaker than his captain, and poorer, and certainly less classy and probably less handsome, but dammit, he had seen Rukia punch Madarame Ikkaku in the fucking face, and he didn’t even need to pretend it wasn’t the greatest thing he had witnessed in his entire life.

“I could tell you about it sometime,” Renji said quietly. “It was pretty awesome.”

Byakuya didn’t reply, but one side of his mouth quirked upwards and he made a little snorting sound. 

They watched together as Rukia put Ise Nanao in a headlock. Unfortunately for Rukia, Nanao grabbed Rukia’s forearm to protect her airway and just leaned forward, so that Rukia dangled off the ground behind her. The (slightly) taller woman swung around, trying to dislodge her passenger, while Rukia attempted to kick her in the ribs.

“You can do it, Nanao!” Kyouraku warbled.

“So graceful,” Renji appraised.

“Pure elegance,” Byakuya agreed.

* * *

Rukia carefully studied the paper layout Nanao had just handed her. It was actually not too different from the way her practice course had been set up during the first half of last week. Two of the checkpoints were reversed, and the keepaway zones were actually smaller than she had expected. She handed the paper back. “I’m gonna do my dry run now.”

“You can study the course longer if you like,” Nanao pointed out. “You didn’t take very long.”

Lieutenant Sasakibe said nothing.

“Nope. I’m good.”

Rukia took the course slowly, trying to hit all the corners sharply, looking for tricky bits. Sometimes, you didn’t realize how hard some of the momentum shifts were until you actually tried to run them. There was one tricky bit to this one, but it was the same as the version she had practiced on, so she already knew how to handle it. She returned to the start. 

Eleven seconds. She’d done it in practice in 10.7. The keepaway zones were smaller. If she cut corners a little, she could stay nearer to her maximum speed. Eleven seconds was good enough. She didn’t need to cut the corners. But she knew this course. She had plenty of room. Why play it safe? She bounced on the balls of her feet and flexed her fingers.

“Are you ready, Lieutenant Ise?” Lieutenant Sasakibe asked.

Nanao had her stopwatch at the ready. “Yes, sir.”

“Kuchiki? Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she breathed.

“On three. One. Two. Three.”

She cut the corners, screaming through the course at full throttle.

As she screeched to a halt, eyes wide and hair blown askew, she knew it was a personal best, and she’d missed those keepout zones by a mile, to boot.

Rukia’s head turned toward the sidelines, a grin blooming on her face. Renji was waving his own stopwatch and jumping up and down. Byakuya, standing next to him, looked… grim.

“Ten… three,” Nanao said, a strange expression on her face.

“Ten _three_?” Sasakibe echoed. 

Nanao nodded. She started flipping through one of her notebooks.

Rukia look at both of them, trying to figure out what was going on. “That’s good enough, right? For full points? I just needed to beat eleven seconds.”

Nanao looked up. “Who told you that?”

Rukia’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t good enough. All that practice, and it still wasn't good enough. “ _Renji_ ,” she growled.

Slowly, Rukia, Nanao, and Sasakibe all looked over at the lieutenant of the Sixth Division. He was holding two thumbs up enthusiastically.

“Kuchiki,” Sasakibe said sternly. “Sixteen seconds is a pass with full points. Eleven seconds flat is the _course record_. It’s been held for over a hundred years.”

Their eyes slid from Renji to the man standing stolidly next to him, whom Captain Hirako was currently jabbing in the ribs with an elbow.

“Oh,” said Rukia. “Oh, my.” 

* * *

“Arright, here we go,” Captain Hirako said, rubbing his hands together. 

Renji looked at the man sideways. He was always weird, but this particular weirdness seemed...directed.

“You’re a big fan of the Overall Combat Demo?” Captain Ukitake asked curiously.

“Just got a feeling this fight is gonna whip ass, if you know what I mean.”

Hitsugaya started flipping through his notes. “Which vice-captain is she fighting? Abarai, do you know?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything,” Renji shrugged. 

Rose cleared his throat, and jerked a thumb toward a new figure taking the field.

“Whaaaaaaat?!” Hisagi hooted.

“Oh, shit, this _is_ gonna whip ass,” Renji murmured. 

Byakuya’s head spun around, his eyes flashing.

“Sorry, sir,” Renji amended.

“What is happening?” Hitsugaya exclaimed. “This isn’t right! Surely, there must be some mistake--”

“Oh, no, she volunteered,” Shinji supplied. “She’s been looking forward to this for a week.”

Lieutenant Hinamori was chatting amiably with Rukia while she gave her sword a quick checkout. 

“I’m going to go talk to Lieutenant Sasakibe,” Hitsugaya announced.

“Y’aren’t,” Shinji replied firmly. “She was cleared for active duty weeks ago and all she’s doing is testing a lieutenant candidate. She’s a big girl.” He paused. “She’s not really, I guess, although she kinda looks big next to Kuchiki, don’t she?”

“Please refrain from commenting on my sister’s physical appearance,” Byakuya bit off. 

“Anyway, Momo told me, an’ I quote, ‘I’ve always wanted to fight Kuchiki Rukia.’" Hirako nodded his head a few times. "I think we should all get a chance to live out our dreams.”

“She said _what_?” Renji and Hitsugaya exclaimed in unison. 

* * *

  
  


“So, before we get started, there’s something I should tell you,” Hinamori said, resheathing her sword.

“Yeah?” Rukia asked cautiously. 

Hinamori took a deep breath through her nose. “For a long time, I had a lot of complicated feelings about you. And I’ve been rethinking a lot of things lately, about my life and my friends, and I realized that maybe it doesn’t need to be complicated. Maybe I just want to fight you.”

Rukia blinked. “ _You_ … want to fight... _me?”_

Hinamori shrugged and nodded.

Rukia’s eyes sparkled. “I don’t know what to say. That’s amazing. I’m so flattered.”

Hinamori looked surprised for a moment, then a smile spread over her face. 

“Everyone always wants to fight Ichigo and it’s so irritating, it’s like, I’m right here.”

“Ikkaku wanted to fight you.”

“That’s true, although I think it was rooted in some weird thing with Renji.”

“Well, that’s okay, I think. Dudes fight each other over weird things with girls all the time. A grudge is a grudge.”

“That’s true,” Rukia agreed. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Anyway, of course I will stick to the parameters of the Demo, you deserve a fair exam and I intend to give you one. I just wanted to let you know I _also_ intend to give you a run for your money. And if it looks like I'm enjoying myself whupping your ass, it's because I am ”

“We'll see about that!!” Rukia nodded eagerly.

Rukia was still a little starstruck as she took up her position on the field. She had a _frenemy_ , lieutenant-class, no less. _Finally_. She had no idea that Hinamori thought of her that way. Now it was more important than ever to make this fight a good one.

She tried to focus and remember what Kira had told her about this Demo. The point was to show off. The problem was, as she tried to picture her Hinamori cheatsheet, Momo was incredibly fast at shooting off powerful kidou. It was going to be a pain in the butt to finish one of her Dances. Rukia began trying to piece together a plan of attack in her head. 

“You will have four minutes,” Lieutenant Sasakibe announced. “Begin.”

Rukia immediately slung off a no-chant _Hainawa_ , which she nearly always used as a precursor to _Rikujoukourou._

Hinamori had already thrown up an _Enkousen_ , a spinning shield of reiatsu. Rukia had suspected that Hinamori would have such a counter planned-- the _Hainawa-Rikujoukourou_ combo was too classic, and Byakuya was somewhat famous for using it at any opportunity. Instead of segueing into the second spell, which Hinamori’s shield would surely block, Rukia flash-stepped to another spot on the field and began her release. 

Hinamori reacted quickly, dissipating her shield and releasing her own zanpakutou, just as Rukia let off a _Hakuren_ , cold air blowing back her hair. Three fireballs came flying back, melting through her wall of ice. Rukia rolled to the side as the fourth sizzled past her. Tobiume was wickedly fast, and she was going to need to pay strict attention to her four-at-a-time limit.

Rukia charged, calling up _Shirafune_. Hinamori had a similar technique that wreathed her own blade in flames. Their swords clashed, throwing off steam. Rukia could feel Sode no Shirayuki singing through her reiatsu ducts, flooding her with power. Her zanpakutou _liked_ this fight. Rukia pressed hard, their blades clattering. She was doing it, she was overpowering Hinamori. Suddenly, Hinamori twisted Tobiume downward, and one of her prongs caught Sode no Shirayuki’s blade and wrenched her from Rukia’s hands.

Welp, Rukia had been looking for a chance to show off her shunkou. Flexing her arms, her back and arms exploded with kidou, and she swung into a low kick, trying to sweep Hinamori off her feet. Hinamori managed to jump over her. Rukia shot to her feet inside Hinamori’s reach, grabbing her sword arm and trying to lock her elbow. 

With her other hand, Hinamori threw a _Hyapporankan_ at Rukia, the blue-white blades of kidou hurling her backwards. Rukia crossed her arms in front of her, forcing more raw kidou into her shunkou shield to disintegrate the rods, but she had been knocked back significantly. She dug in her heels, grinding to a halt as she hurled a no-chant _Soren Soukatsui_ at Hinamori. 

Hinamori blocked it with another _Enkousen_ , and shot back more fireballs.

Rukia flash-stepped around them, retrieving Sode no Shirayuki on the way by. She realized with a thrill that her shunpo was only just barely adequate to the task. This was a _good fight_. Rukia evaded the fourth fireball, and made another charge.

The fifth fireball hit her full in the chest and Rukia crashed into the ground, stars filling her vision.

“End match!” Lieutenant Sasakibe called.

Rukia blinked up at the sky. She had lost. Just like that.

“Are you all right?” Hinamori asked, leaning over her. She looked mildly pissed.

“Yeah,” Rukia replied, sitting up and rubbing her chest. “Aside from _losing_.”

“You did fine,” Hinamori reassured her. “What was the time, Lieutenant Ise?” she called across the field.

“Three minutes, forty-two,” Nanao called back. 

“You made it almost the full time,” Hinamori replied. “You got off some _eishouhaki_ , several of your sword attacks, whatever that kidou-hakuda thing you were doing was. You serpentined around my fireballs. That’s tough. Izuru can’t do that. You did fine,” she finally repeated, offering Rukia a hand up.

Rukia’s brows creased. “What the hell was up with that? I thought you could only do four at a time!”

Momo huffed. “You’re not the only one who trains, you know. I’m just mad you pressed me into using it, I was trying to keep it a surprise for a while.”

Lieutenants Sasakibe and Ise had approached them.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Hinamori,” Sasakibe said as they exchanged bows. “And congratulations, Kuchiki. You have completed your examination, which is a major accomplishment in and of itself. You certainly made a good showing. We should have the results for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rukia replied, bowing. 

That was it. It was over. A strange, heady feeling was flooding through her body. It was just waiting now.

Hisagi had returned to the field. “Good job, fellow Lieutenants, are we done for the day?”

“I have a test to grade,” Nanao teased.

“You ran the hakuda demo, you should get someone to do the grading and come drinking with us,” Hisagi informed her.

“Oh, are you volunteering?”

“Uh, no, I wouldn’t want Kuchiki to fail on account of my poor math skills.”

“Well, I’m not doing it, I want to go drink,” Hinamori announced.

“My precious lieutenant, you did so well! I’m so proud of you!” 

Hinamori rolled her eyes, but she grinned as her captain approached, his gangly arms spread wide. “I was going easy on her, sir. It was only a test.”

“You were?” Rukia exclaimed. “We should fight again, then! For real!”

“Keep it down,” Captain Hirako stage whispered. “Captain Overprotective might hear you.”

“Another day, Kuchiki,” Hinamori replied smugly. “You’ve got to be pretty tired.”

It occurred to Rukia very suddenly that she _was_ tired, she was absolutely exhausted.

“ _Momo!”_

Hinamori rolled her eyes.

“Ah, Captains Hitsugaya and Outoribashi, perfect!” Nanao said cheerfully. “Shall we go discuss your impressions of the candidate?”

“Just a minute,” Hitsugaya stammered. “I just need to--”

“You can do that later,” Captain Outoribashi interrupted him, trying to steer him off the field. “That was such a lovely match, absolutely inspirational, all that fire and ice. I want to get my thoughts out before I forget a thing.”

“But-- but--”

“Catch you later, Shirou!” Hinamori sing-songed. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her neck, and a set of knuckles crushed into her scalp.

“Since when can you do five in a row?” Renji bellowed at her.

“Owie owie owie owie ow! Stop it! I choked! I didn’t even need to use it! I’m so mad at myself!”

“I’m so proud of you! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re a blabbermouth and you’d tell everyone!”

"I only woulda told...some people! Unless we were at the bar, you know all bets are off once I get ripped."

“Dammit, Renji, get offa me and go gush over Rukia already!”

Renji looked over and brown eyes met violet ones. Rukia’s breath stuck in her throat.

“Why would I do that?” Renji said, his voice soft and faraway. “She knows how awesome I think she is.”

There was the sound of a throat being cleared. “Lieutenant. Please unhand the Vice-Captain of the Fifth,” Byakuya intoned.

Renji released Hinamori and sprang away. “Uh, sorry, sir.”

“I am not the one you should apologize to.”

“Apologies, Lieutenant Hinamori.”

Momo pulled a face at Renji once she was sure Byakuya had lost interest in her. “Buy me a drink and we’re square. You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Was plannin’ on it.”

Rukia blinked. She knew the lieutenants involved in the exam went out together afterwards, but Renji hadn’t mentioned anything… she had sort of thought… well…

“Sister.”

Rukia looked up. Byakuya was looking down at her with an odd expression on his face. His eyebrows were sort of relaxed, and his mouth turned up at the edges and his forehead had smoothed out. It occurred to Rukia stupidly that he was smiling at her.

“You were magnificent,” Byakuya informed her. 

Rukia’s tongue felt thick and stupid in her mouth. “I’m so tired,” she blurted out.

“I am sure you are,” he replied kindly. “I have planned a pleasant evening for us, but if you would prefer to go to bed, it would not offend me.”

Rukia stared at him. He had _what_? Feeling utterly lost, her eyes drifted to Renji, who looked sort of… smug? She looked back at Byakuya. “No, I think it would be good to wind down. There isn’t going to be any sword practice, is there?”

A sound that might have been a _very light chuckle_ emerged from the vicinity of Byakuya's face. “I promise, it will be very relaxing. Are you ready to go home?”

Rukia’s eyes darted to Renji again. Did he really have nothing to say to her? She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. He glanced briefly at his captain and then back to her. 

“Don’t you have something to say to my sister, Lieutenant Abarai?” Byakuya snapped peevishly.

Renji held out his clipboard to her. “I was keepin’ track. I’m 100% sure you passed. You’da have to have totally boned the written portion to fail, and I know you knew that stuff backwards and forwards. I wrote you some notes, if you want some points for improvement.

Gingerly, she accepted the clipboard.

“You did great,” he said simply. “Better’n me, for sure. I mean, you deserve it, after how hard you worked. But for what it’s worth, I’m real proud of ya.” A silence hung in the air, something left unsaid. Maybe, if they were alone, he would have said it. But maybe not.

“Thanks,” Rukia replied, her voice sounding small and tired.

“We are all proud of you,” Byakuya added irritably, gesturing to himself and Captain Ukitake, who looked amused at this. “Lieutenant, work hours are over, and you are keeping your fellow lieutenants waiting. You may be dismissed.”

“Oh! Thanks, sir! I’ll see you tomorrow, sir! See you tomorrow, Rukia.” He ducked his head in a sloppy bow, and dashed off after Hinamori and Hisagi, who had been edging their way toward the boundary of the practice field in their eagerness to get to the bar. When Renji caught up with them, the three headed off in earnest.

They didn’t have any plans to meet the next day, Rukia realized. Then again, Rukia didn’t think she had any plans at all after the test. What was she supposed to do with the rest of her life after this?

“I bet you’ll sleep well tonight,” Captain Ukitake wished her. “You could have passed with half the effort, but that’s not your way, is it?” He seemed to be looking at Byakuya as he said this.

“No, it’s not, sir,” she agreed.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be my vice-captain,” he said cheerfully. “But we can talk about that tomorrow. Your brother looks like he’s getting impatient.”

“This is just my appearance,” Byakuya returned. "This is how I always look."

“Good night, Kuchikis!” Ukitake waved, ignoring him and heading back towards the Thirteenth.

“Shall we?” Byakuya asked after a moment. They were the only ones left standing on the training field.

“Brother?”

“Yes, Rukia?”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Angry? Whatever for?”

“For breaking your record.”

Byakuya’s face softened back into his earlier smile. “As long as a Kuchiki holds the record, it does not matter which one. You have made our superiority even more defensible. How could I possibly be angry?” 

Rukia smiled. “Good.”

“Also, the conditions of the exam are very contrived. I am still much faster than you.”

“Oh, surely, Brother.”

He paused. “But you show good promise. I admit that I did not realize how skilled you were at shunpo. Perhaps… I might show you a trick or two.”

“I’d like that,” Rukia agreed. “But for now… let’s just go home.”

* * *

"--and the way she knocked you flat on your ass, _WHAMMO_!" Renji knocked over a bowl of rice crackers, whether from over-enthusiasm or for emphasis was unclear.

"I remember. I was there," Shuuhei pointed out.

"Why did we even invite you?" Momo grumbled.

"Hey, suckers, how did the exam go?" Izuru greeted everyone as he walked in. "Anyone pay enough attention to give me some sort of recap? Anyone?"

"Oh, go _home_ ," Momo put her head down on the table.

"You wanna hear about the all-around?" Renji asked brightly. "The all-around was _lit!_ "

Momo sat up again. "Okay, maybe I can handle _one_ more recap."

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind Renji. Everyone looked up, and Renji craned his head around.

"Nanao! You escaped!" Shuuhei greeted cheerfully.

"May I join you?" the lieutenant of the Eighth asked. 

There was a general chorus of assent, and Renji and Shuuhei made space so she could slide in between them.

"Are you drinking?" Momo asked. She had already been pouring for Izuru, and started to reach for a second saucer.

"Yes, please," Nanao sighed.

"Did you finish grading?" Renji asked. "Did she pass?"

Nanao gave him an absolutely withering look, the sort she usually reserved for her captain. "We just got out of gathering feedback from the proctors," she said sternly. "I have been administering that test since 7 this morning, and I am only one person, and I am _tired_."

"Doesn't Lieutenant Sasakibe help?" Momo asked.

"He provides _oversight_ ," Nanao rolled her eyes while accepting her drink. "Thank you. So no, and in fact, I was just telling him today that I think we should add someone else to the testing committee. I should have a back-up. Also, the test hasn't changed much in the last two hundred years, and we were thinking it might be good to have new opinions. Maybe someone who's a little stronger on the physical combat aspects. We were thinking that perhaps we give too much weight to kidou knowledge, mostly because that's easier to measure."

Renji was staring at her. "Who, uh, were you thinkin'?"

Izuru threw a rice cracker at his head.

"She's asking you, you dummy!" Momo cried.

"Me? But I'm the new guy!"

"Probably not as of tomorrow," Nanao pointed out. She took a sip of her drink. "Everyone knows you and Kuchiki are best friends, it's very natural that you would help her out."

"Well, yeah," Renji excused. "Shuuhei an' Izuru an' Momo all helped me out when I took it."

"Did we?" Shuuhei frowned.

Momo held up one finger. "I made _one_ binder, Abarai. _One_. Do not group me in with you."

"My point is," Nanao continued, "that you strike me as the sort of person who is going to help out anyone who asks for it. And once word gets out, you're going to turn into a one-man de facto Lieutenant’s Exam pre-exam."

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Izuru smirked. "How many other people are you currently coaching, Abarai?"

"I mean, I'm not really _coaching_ him, Akon and me have just, y'know, been _talking_ about it. And both my Third and Fourth Seat make noise about taking the test, so I've been trying to help them round out their skill sets, but neither one is really _serious_ about it, so I kinda have to sneak it into their drills without 'em noticing. Oh, yeah, Kotetsu the Shorter said something to me the other day, too, but it's possible she was just flirting…"

" _In any case,"_ Nanao cut him off before anyone at the table acquired an eye-rolling-based injury, "Lieutenant Sasakibe would rather get you on our side before that happens. So, what do you say?"

"Welll…" Renji said slowly. "The fact of the matter is, I do have some ideas. Been saving them for a while, didn't wanna seem like too much an upstart. I got 'em in a binder at home and--"

Three rice crackers, two lotus chips and a pickled plum came flying at his head. 

* * *

They sat out near the koi pond, on a finely woven blanket laid out in the grass. Colored lanterns were set about, providing a gentle illumination. 

Byakuya had told her to “make herself comfortable,” so Rukia was wearing her oldest, softest yukata, pink patterned with cheerful, paler pink rabbits, so faded, they looked more like blobs than bunnies. She could tell in her heart that he hated it, but he had held his tongue. For his part, Byakuya looked as elegant and handsome as usual, in a navy kosode and dove grey silk yukata. He had, at least, taken out his kenseikan. He seemed a little bit stymied by the idea of trying to balance a plate on his knees.

Rukia popped a nigiri in her mouth. “No spicy stuff tonight?”

“I thought you would have had enough competition for one day,” Byakuya replied mildly, taking a sip of his sake. It was a bottle from the special section of the wine cellar. Rukia couldn't even imagine how much it cost.

She snorted through her nose. “For today. I'll paste you again tomorrow.”

Byakuya nodded thoughtfully, not rising to the bait. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Rukia. I have something I would like to tell you.”

Rukia chewed the inside of her cheek. She thought they were done with this. She knew he still wasn’t exactly _happy_ about her taking on a lieutenancy, but she thought he had accepted it.

“It is… a story.”

Rukia blinked, and looked up. There was a strange, uncomfortable look on his face. This wasn't about her lieutenancy at all, she realized.

“I am not good at telling stories. I apologize for that. I have put off telling you this because I felt that I lacked the skill to do it-- to do _her_ justice.”

Rukia’s eyes went wide and her muscles tensed.

“It has been a long time since I have had to do something at which I am not skilled. I do not care for it. But you have worked incredibly hard over the past few weeks, and I felt like I would like to do something for you in return.”

Rukia swallowed.

“And so… if you are interested… and you would not be offended by an inexpert storyteller...I would like to tell you about how I met your sister. Hisana.”

“I would like that very much, Brother,” Ruka replied, her voice very soft.

Byakuya seemed almost surprised. “Ah. Well.” His face ran through several expressions that Rukia was quite sure she had never seen him make before. “It begins, as you might expect, with orchids.”

Rukia blinked. “Orchids?”

“Yes,” Byakuya replied. “Orchids. No. Let me back up. It begins with fisticuffs. The orchids were meant to prevent future incidents of fisticuffs, but as you shall see, they were not entirely effective.” He paused. “Already, I am ahead of myself.”

Rukia patted his hand. “You’re doing fine. Don’t you dare stop.” 

* * *

"Your hands should be more like _this_ ," Rukia demonstrated, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

The younger girl nodded, and tried to cast the bakudou again.

Rukia wondered what time it was. Her day had been a steady stream of busywork-- filing, reorganizing the dojo equipment, tutoring junior squad members on their kidou. She'd even done _double_ lifting. Her body was thoroughly tired out, but none of it could keep her mind from racing around in circles.

"Hey, Kuchiki!"

Rukia turned. Seventh Seat Ooshima was standing back at the safety line, arms crossed over her chest.

"What's up?" Rukia called back.

"Captain wants you. Over in the offices."

Rukia's stomach twisted. "Thanks. You busy right now?"

Ooshima shook her head. "No, why?"

"Could you take over my kidou lesson, here?" Rukia asked. "We're brushing up on bakudous 10 through 15."

"Ah, sure," Ooshima agreed, surprised at this casual extension of trust. "The high brass from Six are here, looking real official. So, uh, congratulations, I would guess."

"Thanks," Rukia replied simply.

Renji and Byakuya were waiting in Captain Ukitake's office, perfectly at attention, looking like a pair of carved statues. Nothing like the Sixth Division for making things look official. Rukia wondered how, out of all the people in Soul Society, these two dorks were the ones she had come to love the most. 

"You have visitors," Captain Ukitake said, a smile on his lips.

Rukia bowed. "Captain Kuchiki. Lieutenant Abarai."

"I am not here in any official capacity," her brother informed her. "I was told I could 'tag along.' I will leave if you wish."

"You can stay," Rukia said, finding Captain Ukitake's smile to be contagious.

Renji was regarding his captain out of the corner of his eye. "You done?"

"I am done," Byakuya concurred.

Rukia half expected Renji to start shouting at her in his drill sergeant's bark, but instead, he looked her in the eye, and spoke in a very serious, very firm voice. 

"Kuchiki Rukia, it is my privilege to inform you that you have successfully completed the requirements necessary to achieve the rank of Lieutenant in the Gotei 13. Your examination scores were superlative, a credit to you and your division."

Rukia felt her smile being tugged into a grin.

"Furthermore, you have been offered the position of assistant captain of the Thirteenth Division under Captain Ukitake Juushirou, effective immediately upon your acceptance." Renji's serious demeanor broke for a moment. "You don't have to give your answer right now, I know he's standing right there."

"I accept!" Rukia announced.

A look came into Renji's eyes that Rukia had come to recognize as "so proud of her he couldn't stand it." Her heart felt like it had grown three sizes. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Kuchiki," Renji said.

"Thank you for your support, Lieutenant Abarai!" she practically shouted at him. "I will do my best!"

Now Renji's face split into a big grin, too. 

Captain Ukitake pulled a small, flat box from his sleeve, and held it out toward Renji. "Who wants to do the honors?"

Renji immediately turned to Byakuya, whose mouth hung open uselessly. "Er…"

"Will you, Brother?" Rukia asked.

The question hung in the air for a moment. Renji made the tiniest of throat-clearing noises.

"Yes, of course," Byakuya agreed quickly, stepping forward to take the box from Ukitake, and removing its contents.

"Oh, hold on!" Ukitake remembered, fishing around in his other sleeve and completely abandoning any precept of formality. "I want to get a picture of this."

"Juushirou, please," Byakuya tried to cut him off at the pass, but Rukia was already thrusting her own phone at Renji.

"Renji, take one for me, too, would you?"

Byakuya looked like he was beginning to regret agreeing to this as Renji and Juushirou tried to determine how deeply they needed to squat in order to get both Kuchikis in the frame.

"We're good," Renji finally proclaimed. "Go for it."

Despite his irritation, Byakuya seemed determined not to let it show on his face as he slid the Squad 13 adjutant's badge up Rukia's arm, and tightened the band around her bicep.

"Congratulations, Assistant Captain Kuchiki," he said very softly. "You will bring honor to our family. I am very proud of you."

There was a loud honk as Captain Ukitake blew his nose. "Me, tooo!" he wailed. Rukia and Byakuya looked over. Jushirou had begun tearing up, and was leaning on Renji for support. Renji was squinting at Rukia's phone while holding Juushirou up with the other arm.

"Don't worry," he assured them. "I got a good one."

* * *

_much, much later that evening..._

"Why aren't you very drunk?" Rukia demanded, as once again, she and Renji navigated the streets of the Seireitei at two in the morning. They were nearing the gates to the Sixth, but Renji had insisted he would walk her all the way home.

"Your brother said it was your celebration and you could do whatever you wanted, he wouldn't even wait up, so long as I kept an eye on you and made sure you stayed safe."

"Laaaaaaaame," Rukia groaned.

"I am not as sober as you think I am, by the way. It's just that you are just…the drunkest. Possibly the drunkest person I have ever met."

"Can take care of m'self, though. 'M a lieutenant now." She pointed to her arm where her badge currently was not. You were only supposed to wear it for official, duty-type things, Oddly, getting ripped with the other lieutenants did not fall under this category.

Renji stretched. "Dunno how much you're looking forward to getting home to bed, but if you don't mind swinging by my place, I got a little something for you. Two somethings, actually."

"You got me presents!" Rukia exclaimed, too drunk to scold him for spending his money on her.

"Mmmm, sort of," he drawled. "More like surprises. So you don't mind a detour?"

"No way! Not if there's presents! Is it more pickles?" 

"It is not." Renji put his hands on her shoulders and gently steered her through the gate.

"We gotta be sneaky, right? Don't wanna run into any of your cousins."

"Sneaky, shhhhhh!" Rukia agreed.

Fortunately, Rikichi was on gate duty (if Rukia hadn't been quite so sloshed, she might've noticed that Renji had _planned ahead_ ) and they didn't run into anyone else on the way to his quarters.

"Good job, us," Renji congratulated them, shutting his door behind them.

"Present now," Rukia demanded.

"I told you, it's not really a present. It's yours, but it stays here. It's over by the kitchen." Renji gestured.

Shooting him a skeptical squint, Rukia stepped around his couch and stopped dead.

Next to the doorway that led to the kitchen, tucked against the wall, was a little wooden stepstool. It was sturdy and serviceable, with a charming little design carved into the top: a rabbit nestled in a patch of tall grass. Rukia stared at it for a moment, her eyes growing misty. She was very, very drunk.

"Renji!" she wailed. "It'll be in the way! You'll trip over it!"

"Don't care," he replied off-handedly, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's more important t'me that you feel at home when you're here. Speaking of which, give it a go. I put your other surprise in the top kitchen cabinet on the left."

Shooting a watery look back at him, Rukia carted her stepstool into the kitchen, plunked it down, and climbed up. She could reach the cabinet door without even stretching. She looked back and beamed at Renji, who was working very, very hard not to laugh at her. 

Rukia slid open the cabinet and gasped. Reverently, she pulled out the bottle of sake, cradling it like a newborn kitten. 

"Surprise," Renji said softly. "Only the best for you, Lieutenant Kuchiki."

The bottle was made of thick, greenish glass, just perfect for braining someone over the head in a barfight. The label contained a scratchy doodle of an animal relieving itself on a man's leg, printed on a press with extremely poor registration. It was the finest rotgut that could be purchased for money in South Rukongai's 78th district. Rukia and Renji had partaken of it exactly once before, the fruits of what they still considered to be their all-time greatest heist.

Rukia took a big, shaky breath. "I hear they have to sell a different version in the upper districts because of regulations on formaldehyde content."

Renji nodded solemnly. "I went all the way down to 55 to get that. What you have in your hands is genuine Old Tanuki Piss, original formula. I told you, only the best for you, Ru." He took a deep breath. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you. You worked so hard and you just--" he slammed a fist into his open palm, "--crushed it. You impressed the hell outta everyone, except for me, 'cause I already knew how great you are."

"Shut up," Rukia managed. "You old sap. Are you gonna have some of this with me?"

"Right now? You aren't drunk enough already?"

"I don't see how anyone could possibly enjoy this stuff sober."

"Good point." Renji fetched some cups, and they took turns pouring each other much-too-large servings.

"Kampei!" they announced together, threw back their drinks, and then shuddered.

"More?" Renji asked.

"Sure, but let's savor the next round," Rukia suggested.

They settled across from each other at Renji's table, each cradling their hideous beverage.

"This is _so different_ from last night," Rukia informed him.

Renji smiled. "Been wanting to ask you-- did you have a nice time with your brother yesterday evening?"

"I really did," Rukia said softly, somehow managing to sound a little more sober. "We had a nice dinner out in the garden with fancy wine and everything." She paused. "And then he told me Hisana stories."

Renji froze, his cup halfway to his mouth. He had no idea what he had expected his captain to come up with, but he hadn't expected Byakuya to get _personal_. "What kind of stories?"

"What she was like. How they met." Rukia fiddled with her cup. "I'm sorry, Renji. I'm trying to figure out how to...to... _tell you_ , but I'm still kind of digesting it all. Also, I might be kinda drunk."

"No, no, it's fine," he said, waving his hands. "It's not even really my business, you don't have to tell me at all if you don't want to." It wasn’t that Renji wasn’t curious about Rukia’s sister, exactly. He was. But something about Hisana’s name made him want to clap his hands over his ears and hum loudly. Hisana had given up Rukia and regretted it more than anything, and Renji got her instead, for which he was eternally grateful. Hisana was the one who had brought Byakuya and Rukia together, tearing Rukia and Renji apart in the process. Renji didn’t know how to co-exist in a story with Hisana. Most of the time, he didn't have to. Sometimes he wondered, though, if she had lived, what would she have thought of him. Other times, he wondered, if she had lived, if he would have any place in Rukia's life at all.

"She was…more like me than I had expected," Rukia said slowly. "Rowdy, I mean. She was rowdy."

"Really?" Renji asked, wrinkling his nose in disbelief.

"But I guess Brother was pretty rowdy in his youth, too," Rukia said wistfully. "I don't know. I'm still trying to get my head around it." Rukia stopped staring into her cup and looked over across the table. "Renji?"

"Eh?" Renji asked, still trying to parse the statement "Brother was pretty rowdy in his youth", but it failed to resolve into meaningful words.

"You put him up to that, didn't you?"

Renji snapped to attention. "Huh?"

"It was very kind of Brother to distract me from worrying over my exam scores, but there's no way he thought that up on his own. The man has never lost sleep worrying over something in his life." She gave Renji a very pointed stare. “Also, the egg rice. That wasn’t him either.”

Renji took another sip of his sake and made a face before answering. "Yeah, fine, guilty. He just...he really cares about you, and I thought it would be a good chance for him to show it. So maybe I gave him a few little suggestions. He still did a nice job, right? That was all him."

Rukia took another sip herself. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I woulda done it myself, you know, I wasn't trying to get out of it! And I certainly wouldn't've left you to stew!"

"You are proving my point, you ridiculous person, you." She shook her head. "You are so sweet. No one deserves you, least of all me. Wait. No. Least of all, Brother. Second least of all, me." 

Renji made a face. He really had not been sober to start with, and the Tanuki Piss was starting to get the best of him. "I'll be the judge of that," he announced grandiosely.

Rukia crossed her arms on the table, and leaned forward. "What was your plan? To distract me? If Brother had refused. C'mon, I know you had one."

"Ohhh," Renji hedged, "Probably just done this one day earlier. Thought about trying to get you to pay back that favor you owe me, if we both got sauced enough."

"Didn't we establish that no one ever repays their favors to you?"

Renji shrugged. "You're my _best_ friend. Thought you might be different."

"I don't even remember owing you a favor. I mean, I probably do. Was it for helping me study for the exam? I think I paid you back pretty well by smashin' it so hard. Training for the fight with Ikkaku?"

"Naw, those I just did for funsies. This was the favor from last fall."

Last fall, last fall… Rukia set her cup down with a _clunk_. "The 'we're all gonna die please get drunk and make out with me' favor? That favor?"

Renji stared into his booze and swished it a little. "Now that I think of it, I meant to come up with a better plan, that was just the first thing I thought of, and then your brother agreed, and I didn't think about it after that. I shoulda, though, what if he'd done a bad job? What if you'd texted me in the middle of the night, not bein' able to sleep? Hey, where are you going?"

Rukia returned from the kitchen, step stool in hand. She plunked it down next to where Renji was sitting and clambered up onto it. "Stand up!" she ordered in a very good lieutenants' bark. 

Renji hopped to his feet, wobbling only a little. Rukia caught his arms and steadied him, then surveyed their relative positions. She was still an inch or two shy, which was disappointing, but it would do the job. She put her hands on either side of his neck, setting her thumbs under the angle of his jawbone. Pulling his face down to hers, she kissed him the way she had been thinking about doing since the day after they got back from their stupid mystery mission.

At first, he kissed her back as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though they did this all the time. His hands went to her hips, drawing her closer. Then, after a minute, he drew away, blinking at her owlishly. "What are we doin'? We can't-- This isn't--"

"Of course it isn't, dumbass," Rukia informed him. "This is a business transaction. Unlike those other jerk friends of yours, Kuchiki Rukia repays her debts!"

"Oh, okay," Renji agreed cheerfully, and leaned down to kiss her some more.

~ end part 13


	14. Shinigami's Cup: GOLDEN!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last debt is repaid.

* * *

* * *

_~two weeks later_

"I am not at all sure about all these new World of the Living-style places that have been popping up," Izuru frowned into his drink. "This is weird."

"Coffee is a difficult beverage," Renji informed him. "It takes some getting used to, but it's really good once you do."

"Mine's good," Momo put in.

"Yours is just a pile of foamed milk," Izuru protested.

"There's a lot of sugar in it, too," Momo clarified.

"I'm going to go see if Shuuhei needs any help with his equipment, I feel like he should have started already."

"They're not on for ten more minutes, and isn't Rangiku supposed to be helping him?" Momo countered.

"In that case, I am going to go see if Shuuhei needs me to get Rangiku away from his equipment."

"Are they together again?" Renji hissed to Momo after Izuru had gotten up.

"Shuuhei and Izuru or Shuuhei and Rangiku? Or, like, all three of them?”

“Any of the above?”

“Pfft, who can ever tell?"

Suddenly, Renji and Momo froze as a familiar reiatsu descended on them. Slowly, Renji's head turned, and then he and Momo hopped to their feet. 

"Evenin', Captain Kuchiki!"

"Greetings, Captain Kuchiki!"

Byakuya stood before them, ramrod straight and very serious. He wore his full captain’s regalia, kenseikan and all, even though everyone else in the place was dressed casually, many people in the garb of the Living World, which was beginning to get picked up among the trendier inhabitants of Soul Society.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Abarai, Lieutenant Hinamori. I have not...missed anything, have I?"

"Oh, no, sir," Renji replied. "I think they're just about to get started. Would you, ah, like to join us?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I shall."

Momo's eye twitched. "If you'll just excuse me, I have to go…" She grasped for an excuse and utterly choked. "....flirt with the barista."

"Get Captain Kuchiki a Koifushi Fog, wouldja?" Renji called after her, as he and his captain sat. "Tell 'em to go easy on the sugar!"

"What...is this place?" Byakuya frowned, peering around at the eclectic decor.

"'S called a coffee shop," Renji explained. "Living World thing. Place to hang out, relax, have a hot drink. "

"Like a tea house, only for ruffians."

"Not for ruffians. You gotta behave yourself, you just don't gotta be fancy. A tea house for regular people."

"And it also serves as a musical venue?"

"Yup. At least they're givin' it a try. This place is pretty new." Renji paused. "Does, uh, Rukia know you're coming? Sir?"

Byakuya made a concerned face. "She invited me. I was non-committal at the time. She warned me this might not be to my tastes, but I do enjoy shamisen music very much, and Rukia is quite skilled at it."

Renji nodded slowly. "She's a good singer, too."

"I agree." Byakuya paused. "Her voice is much like her sister's."

Renji took a big sip of his coffee. "What she probably meant," he said slowly, "is that she and Lieutenant Hisagi may be performing more of a contemporary interpretation. He draws a lot of inspiration from Living World music."

"I can appreciate experimental compositions," Byakuya noted.

Renji nodded, not believing his captain in the least. "I've listened to a lot of Lieutenant Hisagi's music, sir, and it's kinda... hit-or-miss. If you don't like it, you can blame it on him. He’s used to it."

"They're all set up, I really don't-- oh, greetings, Captain Kuchiki." Izuru bowed respectfully, and then shot Renji a murderous glare once he was sure that Byakuya's attention lay elsewhere.

A small stage dominated one end of the coffeehouse. Right now, Rukia's head poked out from the wings, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her eyes widened in sudden surprise, and then a huge smile spread over her face. She waved excitedly.

Renji and Byakuya both waved back.

Rukia's head disappeared again.

Izuru plopped down next to Renji and hissed in his ear, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's cool."

Momo returned moments later, bearing a steaming drink that she passed down the table.

"What is this?" Byakuya asked skeptically.

"A kind of herby black tea and steamed milk, mostly," Renji explained. "It's a little sweet, but I think you'll like it anyway."

There was no time to find out though, as Shuuhei and Rukia took that moment to mount the stage, carrying guitar and shamisen respectively. They were both dressed in the Living World style-- Shuuhei wore a ripped black muscle shirt over tight black jeans, with black combat boots. He had an assortment of studded leather bands strapped to various parts of his body. Rukia wore an oversized white t-shirt like a dress, although she had a pair of red plaid pants on underneath, and low top sneakers. The shirt had a drippy looking skull and some words written in Western characters on it. Both of them were wearing a truly excessive amount of eye make-up.

"The fashion of the World of the Living is deeply unflattering," Byakuya commented.

Renji elected not to mention that Rukia's t-shirt was actually _his_ , which Urahara had recently shipped back to Soul Society, along with all of their old gigais. He had a very different opinion as to how flattering it was on Rukia, particularly the way the neckline kept slipping down over one shoulder. He decided to keep it to himself.

"Helloooooo, music lovers!" Shuuhei announced, as he and Rukia settled themselves on a pair of stools. He then proceeded to launch into a shill for the coffee shop and their half-price pastry Wednesdays.

Byakuya cautiously took a sip of his drink and contemplated it. "Sweet beverages are inappropriate for this time of night," he appraised. "But this is pleasant, nonetheless." He took another sip. "Thank you for the recommendation, Lieutenant."

"Glad you like it, sir."

"--and now let's get to some music!" Hisagi finished his commercial. "For my first number, I'd like to play a little something I've been working on for a while. I always felt it was missing something, and I realized earlier this week that what it was missing was Kuchiki Rukia, Vice-Captain of the Thirteenth Division on the shamisen. So, without further ado, here is... _'Garganta'."_

What followed was, at first, typical Dark Shuuhei. It was sort of spoken wordish, which he would usually flourish with an occasional strum of his guitar. Rukia was doing that on her shamisen instead, which imparted a slightly more sinister tone. But then, when he broke into an actual tune about the lonely sands of Hueco Mundo, Rukia started...warbling in the background, sort of a melancholy, mourning sound.

Izuru rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "We have to keep him away from Rukia. This is so incredibly extra."

Momo shrugged. "A month ago, I would have agreed with you. But ever since Rukia and I became rivals, I just love it when she pulls this kind of thing. Look at her up there, ululating in Renji's awful shirt. She's perfect. The best nemesis. I chose so well."

They hit the bridge of the song, which jumped in tempo. Rukia had put aside her bachi, and was finger-plucking at what could probably be described as a mind-blowing pace if she hadn't just publicly established herself as one of the fastest people in Soul Society. Shuuhei was drumming out an accompaniment on the body of his guitar, and had taken over the wailing.

Cautiously, Izuru peered over to his left. Renji and Byakuya were staring at the stage with equally glazed over, enraptured expressions. Izuru jammed his elbow into Renji's ribs. "Don't forget to breath, Pineapple-Head," he whispered.

Renji had, in fact, not just forgotten to breathe, but he had even forgotten _how_. He sucked in a deep, wheezing gulp of air, just as Rukia finished her solo and Shuuhei took up the chorus again. He could feel his captain glaring at him, but all he could manage to do was mumble "She's amazing."

Byakuya's gaze softened, just as Rukia started howling again. "She really is, isn't she?"

~the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! I know it was a lot of work, and I appreciate you spending your time on my goofy little story. I hope you liked the ending! There will be a sequel, anyway, about getting dressed up fancy, and the meaning of family, and tattoos. It'll be a few months, I imagine, although hopefully not the seven it took to write this one. Big thanks to all my commenters, you are as important as writers on this site, and I cannot express how much your encouragement has meant to me. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Oh, and you can always catch me on tumblr as recurring-polynya, sometimes I drop previews or drabbles or drawings in-between horrific Renji shitposts.
> 
> [CUE END THEME](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ed_foVaealE%22) (youtube link)


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